Of Shakespeare and Cupcakes
by crocious
Summary: Stan got the lead in the school play and Kyle is happy enough as stage manager. But when a tragic hairday threatens to undo the entire class's hard work, will they be bold enough to save the day? Style. Complete
1. Chapter 1

"C'mon, Kyle, please?" Stan Marsh was hugging his best friend's thighs in an overtly gay way, clearly attempting to spare his own dignity.

Kyle Broflovski, for his part, was not swayed by the dramatic begging in the crowded school hallway. "Dude, no," said a brilliantly colored Kyle, pushing Stan off his legs. "I HAVE to go to the DECA meeting and I have a shit-ton of homework to do." Kyle turned to his locker and fiddled with the dial.

Stan stood up, pouting. "Kyle, no teachers actually check the homework. You can fill in crap answers in five minutes and get the same 'A.' And DECA's just doing another head count. You can TOTALLY miss that!"

"That's not the point, Stan." Kyle sighed and shut his locker. He turned toward his biology class. But a familiar "tsk"ing sound stopped him in his tracks. He knew that tone of "tsk." It made his blood run cold.

"Wow, Kyle," said Stan, coming up behind his friend. "I didn't realize you'd forgotten already. But I guess that's what friends are for, right? To remind us what's important?"

Kyle turned a brilliant crimson. "Don't," he said shakily.

"Oh, JON!" yelled Stan loudly. He walked to the middle of the hallway and passing students looked at him like a crazy person. "Jon, your arms are so STRONG! Yeah, show me the Emmy! SHOW ME THE EMMY!" A group of students stopped around Stan, giggling. "I totally agree with all your snarky opinions, you smooth, smooth operator!"

"Okay, Stan!" Kyle shouted. "I think that's enough for one day!"

Stan grinned widely and sauntered over to Kyle as the crowd dispersed. Kyle glared at the floor as if it had done him a great personal wrong.

"So… 2:30?"

"2:30."

"Fine." Kyle kicked the malevolent floor that had kept him from sinking into the ground during Stan's outburst. "I'll be there."

"Yay!" cried Stan, hugging Kyle tightly. "Oh, Kyle, words cannot express the depth of my love for you right now! With you as the wind beneath my wings, I can fly anywhere!"

"Fagger."

* * *

The auditorium was South Park High's greatest attribute. Or, so Kyle had heard- he'd never had a reason to be there except for lame seminars on alcohol, sexting, or Manbearpig. And frankly, during those seminars he was either messing around with Stan or texting Stan if they had to be separated. 

So Kyle had to agree that the auditorium _was_ pretty great, if just for the total "Stan-ness" of it. The stage was elegant, but not pompous; the seats were sinfully comfortable; the acoustics were fantastic. And the blue paint and fabric and the fact that whenever he was here, so was Stan- all of it reinforced the Stan-ness of the auditorium.

Kyle was one of the only students sitting in the seats, so he took the liberty of the center row. His backpack and Stan's pile-of-rags-that-miraculously-held-everything-Stan-mercilessly-stuffed-into-them sat in the seat beside him. He watched the drama geeks do their faggy warm-ups and Stan shyly wave at him from the corner of the stage. Butters was talking animatedly to Stan, and Kyle could tell that his best friend was just too nervous to take in anything the smallish blond was saying.

Kyle sighed and took out his phone. He quickly typed a message to Stan and pressed "SEND." He watched Stan take out his vibrating phone and read the text. A grin passed over Stan's face and he looked at Kyle. Kyle smiled and mouthed his text. "You're brilliant and you've got this part in the bag."

Stan blew an elaborate kiss and Kyle rolled his eyes. When the gay rumors had circulated around Kyle during middle school, Stan saw how much they bothered him and adopted Big Gay Al's big gay mannerisms to shield his friend from the cruel jokes. And because Stan was blatantly heterosexual, the school just figured that the two were both straight, just a tiny bit gay for each other. Except for Cartman, no student ever made fun of either boy again. So when Stan hugged Kyle's thighs or blew him a kiss or tried to play with his hair, Kyle knew it was his way of saying, "I'm here for you, man."

And Kyle was only returning a portion of the favor by sitting front and center in the cool auditorium, silently cheering on his best friend of nearly 16 years. Even if Shakespeare was totally lame, even if _Romeo and Juliet_ was the lousiest, most clichéd high school play in history, Kyle was going to hoot and holler and let Stan know he was here for him.

"Okie-diddlikins," said a Big Gay Voice. "Is everyone ready for the audition?" Everyone turned to see Big Gay Al walk in with his husband, Mr. Slave. All 40 students crowded the apron of the stage to proclaim their readiness.

"Super, let's get this show on the road!"

For the next hour, Kyle didn't look up from his math book except when Stan or Kenny, another good friend, worked a scene.

Since Kenny had taken off the horrible orange parka in the 6th grade, he had blossomed into a tall, beautiful young man who oozed confidence that bordered on arrogance. Kenny was only auditioning "for the chicks," though. Sad. Kyle noticed how wonderfully his voice projected.

Stan read a few different scenes, once as Romeo, twice as Mercutio, and once as Tybalt. Kyle counted. But it was Romeo's soliloquy as the peeping tom in Act 2 that caught Kyle's heart in his throat.

Stan had started shakily, nervously scanning the auditorium for some support. The lights on stage were so bright that he didn't spot Kyle until "Her vestal livery". At "green," he caught Kyle's eye and paused, smiling. The rest of the monologue was flawless, if the tears in Mr. Slave's eyes were any indication. When he'd finished, Kyle stood up and cheered, though he was the only one making a sound. Stan grinned and flashed him a thumbs up.

When everything was finished, Big Gay Al and Mr. Slave tearfully thanked everyone for coming and promised to have the cast list up first thing the next morning. Stan leapt off the stage and ran down the row to hug Kyle.

"Thanks, man," he said. "For a minute there, I thought I was sunk!"

"Dude, you were great," Kyle replied, patting his friend on the back. "You totally got Mercutio!"

Stan's eyes shone as he pulled away.

"Hey, Stan!" Both boys turned to the voice. Wendy was waving him over with Bebe, Kenny, Butters and Clyde. Stan looked at Kyle, who playfully pushed him toward the group. Stan smiled and dashed off as Kyle collected their bags and sighed.

"Hi, Kyle." Kyle jumped a little at his name and turned around to see Mr. Slave. Mr. Slave smiled. "I noticed you didn't fill out a techie form."

"Uh, yeah," replied Kyle. "I'm just here to support my friends."

"Oh, that's such a shame! We need a stage manager to organize everything Al-likins and I don't have time for."

"I'm sure you'll find someone." Kyle turned to walk toward Stan and the group, who were frantically jumping and calling his name.

"Oh well. It looks really good on college applications."

At this Kyle froze. Ambitious as he was, he had never turned down an opportunity to pad his applications.

He turned around. "Does it really?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey, thank you guys so much for reading! I got a little choked up when I saw 113 hits, haha! omg, I'm such a pussy. And a special thank you to Darkslayer18, ticktock1029 and "anonymous creeper." The reviews meant a lot. (lol, sorry I wasn't up front about being a review whore in the first place, I appreciate your concern, Creeper!) Also, I don't own South Park and what not, but if I knew Trey and Matt's respective addresses, you can bet your asses I'd be stalking them. _

_Cuz I can now._

_Being 18 rulez!_

* * *

"Dude, _stage manager?_" Kyle was driving Stan home after the audition and Stan was positively tickled that Kyle was going to be involved in the school's production of Romeo and Juliet. "I thought you said drama is, and I quote, 'stupid and lame and super, super gay!'"

"It _is_," replied Kyle matter-of-factly. "But Mr. Slave sold me on the whole 'looks good on college applications' deal. Plus, you won't have to whine that we don't spend enough time together when you get the part."

"That's _if_ I get the part." Stan suddenly sank into his seat and stared out the window. Kyle looked over at his super best friend and sighed.

"Hey, man," Kyle said. "I think you were incredible up there. And so did Mr. Slave and Big Gay Al."

"Big Gay Al liked Clyde and Kenny _way_ more, though. I don't know if I got it…"

Kyle glanced back over to his friend. He smiled at him and punched him lightly on the arm. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

Kyle sighed and kept driving. When Stan's house came up on his right, he passed right by it.

"Dude, _dude_! What the hell, did you forget where I live, R-Tard?"

Kyle laughed as Stan frantically pawed at the window. "Come on, man, let's go chill. You look like you need to relax."

Stan stopped trying to break the child lock and looked over at Kyle. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

* * *

"Oh my God, this is _great_!" Stan cried. "I haven't been here in ages!"

Kyle smiled. Stark's Pond had more history than the school history books. They had discovered a nearly extinct animal with Kenny and Cartman at Stark's Pond. Cartman had tried to kill Kyle there. Kyle's little brother was kidnapped by Visitors there. They skated on it, boated on it, and, during the terrible reign of The Wall-Mart, shopped on it. Peaceful and beatific, Stark's Pond represented everything that was beautiful about Stan and Kyle's friendship.

Kyle ate his ice cream ravenously on the grassy bank as Stan tore into his. There was something so perfect about the two of them together that Kyle's heart seemed to catch in his throat. He looked over at Stan. His black hair danced in the gentle breeze and the sun shone on his chocolate-smeared face. All sexuality aside, Kyle loved his best friend. Whether his confused man parts were directing him to men or women, Kyle knew that he'd never be able to live without Stan. He smiled and laid on the bank in blissful contentment.

* * *

A deep sloshing sound woke him up. He bolted up to see where Stan was, paranoid for a second that the Left Handed Killer or Visitors or Cartman had taken Stan, but relaxed quickly. Stan was napping in the sun, turned on his side to face where Kyle had been laying.

The sloshing got closer.

From behind a tree, a paddleboat swam clumsily into view. Kyle laughed.

"HEY, FELLAS!" Butters was standing in the paddleboat next to Kenny, waving frantically. Kenny couldn't keep the boat straight on his own, so he pulled his tiny friend down to a sitting level and directed them to shore.

By this time, Stan also sat up, his face still sticky with chocolate ice cream. Butters and Kenny pulled into the bank and hoisted the paddleboat up so it wouldn't float away.

"Hey, dudes," said Kenny, hands deep in his pockets. "We were both a little restless after auditions, so we decided to go chill by the pond."

"Where'd you get that ice cream?" Butters added, pointing to the puddle of vanilla next to Kyle.

Stan laughed. Then he touched his face. With a hint of disgust and a lot of amusement, he pulled his sticky fingers away and laughed again. "Dude, awesome!"

Kyle laughed as Stan pulled his shirt and pants off and ran into the pond in his boxers. Kenny followed suit with a loud cry of glee and Butters shyly sat down on the grass.

Kenny and Stan splashed each other and Kyle turned to his math homework. Butters lay on his stomach and sketched a particularly beautiful flower. The boys spent the whole afternoon by the bank and when Kenny and Stan got tired, they dried in the sun. For four South Park High juniors, it was the perfect afternoon- peaceful, quiet, and utterly carefree.

When Kyle's mother called his cell phone to bring him home for dinner, Kyle gathered his stuff and called Stan over.

"Hey, Stan! Matzo ball soup tonight- you in?"

"Sweet, dude! Gimme a sec."

Kenny and Butters said goodbye as Stan emerged from behind the bushes with his clothes on, minus his shoes. Stan and Kyle walked back up to the beat-up Taurus and drove to Kyle's house, both excitedly talking about this or that girl, carefully avoiding Wendy.

After dinner, Sheila Broflovski invited Stan to stay for the night.

"Really?" Kyle asked. "But it's Tuesday, Mom."

Sheila winked and said she'd be able to swing it with Sharon if they really wanted her to.

"After my little bubbele made _Stage Manager_, how could I possibly deny him?" Sheila smiled at Gerald Broflovski. "You know, your father and I were very involved in the Theatre while we were in college."

Ike and Kyle rolled their eyes as their mother spun around and hummed.

Later that night, as he watched Stan snore softly in his Terrence sleeping bag, Kyle (who still hadn't outgrown his Philip sleeping bag) thought back on the day. Absolute perfection. Absolute Stan-ness. He closed his eyes and smiled with the knowledge that nothing could ruin this wonderful day and nothing would spoil his wonderful friendship with Stan.

Then again, it _is_ South Park.

* * *

The next morning, an impenetrable horde of students crowded the hall just outside the auditorium. They shouted over each other and tried to scramble closer to the doors.

"Huh," Kyle said to Stan (who had spent enough nights at Kyle's house to amass an impressive pile of clothes there- at least he wasn't wearing dirty clothes or naked). "I guess the cast list is up."

Stan stopped in his tracks and gawked at the screaming mass of teenagers. Kyle looked back at him.

"Dude, let's just go to first period. The cast list will be the same all day."

Stan looked genuinely anxious for the first time since Kyle had brought him to Stark's Pond yesterday.

"No, man, I gotta know _now!_"

Just then, Wendy and Bebe walked out of the crowd and up to Stan. Wendy was beaming.

"So, Stan," she said. "Guess we'll be playing opposite each other, huh? Congratulations!"

She and Bebe walked to their classes, giggling into each other's ears.

Stan and Kyle stood rooted to the spot.

"B-but, Mercutio doesn't have an opposite…" Stan stammered.

The first bell rang and the crowd in front of the cast list had all but dispersed. Kyle closed his eyes, not dreading the "tardy" he would receive nearly as much the looming threat of upheaval. He stood like a statue until finally, cruelly, Stan cried, "Holy crap, dude- I'm Romeo!"

"Shit," Kyle whispered.

* * *

_Sorry about the corny mushy crap. Stupid me, I wanted to give South Park a perfect day before I went and destroyed it all, lol! Don't flame, please, just know I have a plan, and the plan is gonna take a little time. Haha, I kind of feel like the Demigod of this fanfic! No animal sacrifices, please!_


	3. Chapter 3

A few years ago, when Kyle was in the 8th grade, he and Stan had had a sort of fight. Stan and Kyle weren't strangers to the etiquette of arguments and both knew when to stand their ground and when to swallow their pride for the sake of friendship. But this argument had no discernable origin, and both were equally convinced that they were in the right, so a resolution was never reached.

It wasn't until years later, far too long after the fact to matter, that Kyle realized why they had fought. It wasn't over a video game, ethics, or frozen ice men. It wasn't even about Cartman.

It was about a girl.

Kyle had never been attracted to Wendy Testaburger- actually, he thought her love of purses was quite off-putting. But in the 8th grade, something in him began to resent Wendy. He resented her strongly enough to take it out on Stan.

He didn't know why he didn't like her. She was smart, funny, hated Cartman, and didn't talk about girly glittery stuff like most girls did. Kyle just began to hate her, from the way she flipped her hair when she laughed to the way she insisted on linking pinkies with Stan at school. He hated her, and he began to hate Stan for not hating her with him.

Though Wendy and Stan had broken up a million times since then, Kyle still felt a seething resentment toward her. It figured that she'd be Juliet to Stan's Romeo. It was the way it had been since 3rd grade. And things didn't change for Kyle. Never had.

Except for Cuba.

* * *

"You okay, man?"

Kenny McCormick's voice jolted Kyle out of his musings. Kenny looked genuinely concerned about him, so Kyle smiled.

"Sure dude. What do you need?"

Kenny grinned, a glint of mischief in his hard blue eyes. As always, his voice betrayed a laugh hidden just under the surface.

"Butters asked me to talk to you about his role."

Kyle laughed loudly, drawing stares from the set crew. Everyone was working hard on their jobs the first week; the actors were memorizing as if their lives depended on it, the costume crew seemed to measure every conceivable length of every actor every five minutes, the set crew was covered in paint and sawdust, and Kyle was trying his best to visualize and record ideal blocking before the rehearsals really began.

Most of the actors were pleased with their roles. Stan was thrilled about being front and center, Kenny's impish grin suited Mercutio perfectly and Wendy threw flirty looks toward Stan every second she could, though it made Kyle want to choke her. Even Cartman was happy being Tybalt, fat asshole though he was.

It seemed the only actor displeased with their role was Butters. He had been grounded for two weeks for being cast as Juliet's nurse.

"Sorry, dude," Kyle told Kenny. "I already tried talking to Big Gay Al and Mr. Slave. They seem to think that the casting came to them in a stroke of genius."

Kenny shrugged. "Thought I'd ask. He's stuttering so hard I'm not sure he'll be able to spit out a single line." Kenny left to rejoin the makeshift study group in the corner of the auditorium. Stan waved at Kyle and turned back to Wendy to read his lines. Kyle fought the urge to throw up.

"Hey there, fancy pants!" Big Gay Al's voice boomed behind Kyle.

"Hey, Al."

"You have those silly little blocking suggestions?" Kyle handed them to him. "That's super! You're a lifesaver!"

Kyle smiled. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do."

As Kyle turned to check on why the makeup crew was sobbing collectively, Big Gay Al stopped him.

"Actually Kyle, there is something." There was a tinge of worry in his voice. Kyle looked at Big Gay Al. "We're kind of over budget and we need to find a way to make money fast."

Kyle was surprised to see a tear in Big Gay Al's eye. "Sure, Al, I'll figure something out."

"Super. Thanks, silly buns." Big Gay Al walked off as melodramatically as he could.

* * *

"Talent show."

"No."

"Candy bar fund-raiser."

"No."

"Car wash."

"No."

"_Naked_ car wash."

Kyle shot Kenny a death glare from the driver's seat. He was driving Stan, Butters and Kenny home and he told them about Big Gay Al's concern that the school play wouldn't have enough money to run. They had been bouncing ideas off him since they (well, Butters) fastened their seat belts.

"Aw, shucks, Kyle," Butters pouted. "The band made a whole lot of money with the candy bars."

"I know that, Butters," Kyle sighed. "But there isn't enough time and I'm sure the drama students aren't as dedicated as band kids. You guys are kind of nerds."

Kenny laughed at that and grabbed Butters' earlobe.

"You're a _nerd_, you're a _nerd_," he sang as Butters blushed furiously.

"Well, what about a bake sale?"

Kyle looked at Stan, amazed that he had forgotten the most basic fund-raising opportunity in any school anywhere.

"Bake sale?"

"Sure," Stan went on. "Ask moms to make cookies or cupcakes or whatever and we can sell them during school or something."

"Betcha Cartman pays for the whole damn play." Kenny had climbed up to Stan's seat and was poking him patiently in the head."

Kyle laughed. "I can't believe I didn't think of that."

"Maybe you're just not as smart as me." Stan looked innocently serious.

Kyle dropped Kenny and Butters off at Butters' house. "Bye, fellas!" Butters called over his shoulder.

Stan and Kyle drove in silence for a while.

"So…" said Kyle, trying to break the tension. "Romeo, huh?"

Stan grinned. "Yeah! I'm so excited! I mean, I knew I was good, I didn't think I was _that_ good!"

Kyle punched him in the arm. "Way to go, dude."

Silence.

Both of the boys knew they were avoiding a very touchy subject, but neither wanted to breach onto Wendy territory. It was an unspoken agreement- when Stan and Kyle were together, Wendy Testaburger did not exist. But the topic was getting harder and harder to avoid with her being so central to Stan's role.

They pulled up in silence to Stan's house. Stan grabbed his bag and gave Kyle a timid smile.

Just as Stan was about to shut the car door, Kyle stopped him. "Hey Stan?"

"Yeah?" Stan bent hopefully to the window.

Kyle thought for a second about all the emotions coursing through his body; the hatred of Wendy, the confusion in his stomach, the insomnia, the anxiety, the butterflies, how he wanted to tell Stan his latest dreams and nightmares, his love for Stan, his hatred of himself.

Kyle looked up at Stan. "Just so you know, I'm telling Big Gay Al the bake sale was my idea."

Stan laughed and waved Kyle off.

When Kyle got home, he sat in the car for a few minutes and cried.


	4. Chapter 4

_Da-dada DAAH! I have returned with the newest chapter! Sorry for the wait, my internet was on the fritz. On the bright side, this one is longer! Yay for a life wasted writing fanfiction! lol_

_Thanks so much to cheesypoofs246, Ace Please, Darkslayer18, xSilverTomoyox, Jo Thomas, I'm At My All Time Low, and kawa-kiree. Reviews make me feel super loved and invincible! Sorry, Kawa-kiree, that Stan and Kyle and Sheila are the only ones in this chapter, but I'll make it up to you in the next chapter. (Also, the naked car wash made me laugh too, even though I wrote it. lol! I guess it's the little things that count, huh?)_

_Anyway, enjoy and leave a review or message or whatever because otherwise my lovely Jewish mom was right about me wasting my life on the computer. lol!_

* * *

The next morning was a Saturday, so Kyle didn't walk downstairs until noon. Actually, he would have stayed in bed longer if he hadn't been lured out by a delectable odor emanating from the kitchen.

Kyle shuffled into the kitchen, still in his pajamas, to see his mother's ample rump sticking out of the oven.

"Uh… Mom?"

Sheila Broflovski popped out of the oven, face smeared with flour and pink frosting.

"Oh, hi, bubbee," she smiled. The oven smelled like heaven. "I'm just making some cupcakes for your little fund raiser!"

Kyle looked around. "Mom. You made, like, a thousand cupcakes."

Sheila laughed. Now that he was looking, Kyle could see the slightly mad glint she got in her eye whenever she became truly and dangerously passionate about something. "Don't be silly, Kyle. There's only nine dozen. I've got two more trays in the oven."

Sometimes Kyle worried about his mother's sanity. The kitchen was filled with chocolate cupcakes, vanilla cupcakes, confetti cupcakes, even-

"Mom, what's this?" Kyle held up a bald cupcake that looked like it had been split and stuck back together (with Sheila's anal neatness) with cream.

"Oh, that's just a little experiment," she explained. "I got bored, so I filled it with mousse." She turned back to the oven. Kyle stared at the small miracle in his hand and found himself slowly raising it to his lips.

"Put some frosting on it first, bubbee." Sheila's back was still turned to Kyle. "I made it myself."

Kyle smiled and smeared some pink frosting on his cupcake before going outside to get the mail. He bit into it and savored the smooth buttercream frosting, the moist cakey head, the cool mousse and decided that if this was how his mom vented her insanity when he was involved with the theatre… well, it could be a lot worse.

That feeling lasted until he walked back inside.

"KYLE!" yelled Sheila from the kitchen. "DON'T MAKE ANY PLANS TODAY!"

Kyle walked in the kitchen holding the mail.

"How come?"

"How come? How COME?!" Even covered in flour and a floral apron, Sheila looked as threatening as Kyle had ever seen her. "I've been busting my tush all morning while you _slept_ to make cupcakes for _your_ fund raiser and I _know_ you don't expect _me_ to frost all of them!"

Kyle looked around. Every cupcake was bald. He shuddered. "And you're going to keep cooking all day?"

"Don't you want your play to run?"

Kyle took a second to marvel at the power of Jewish guilt. If seventeen years with his mother had taught him anything, it was that it was far easier to agree in the first place than to argue for a few hours, scream until both mother and son were hoarse, end up doing the chore unhappily and enduring a week of the silent treatment from Sheila.

"Sure, mom."

Sheila smiled triumphantly. "I need to go to the store for some more eggs and sugar. Why don't you call Stan over to help you?"

"Sure. Thanks, mom."

As she headed out the door, Sheila turned back to Kyle. "If I'm not back in 20 minutes, take the cupcakes out and let them cool before you frost them. There should be enough frosting in the fridge."

"Yup." Kyle sighed and dialed Stan's number.

After half a ring, Stan picked up.

"Dude!" Stan was shouting at Kyle and the background was filled with screaming, crying, and a fire alarm. "What the hell did you _do?!!_"

Kyle was taken aback. "What's going on over there?"

"Your _mom_ called my mom and told her about the bake sale! My mom tried to BAKE, Kyle!"

"Oh, shit." Kyle slapped his forehead. "Man, I'm so sorry."

"You'd better be, cuz I'm coming over right now to see what _your_ mom's been doing and I will have one of her treats to get back at her."

And Kyle didn't even have to trick him by omitting the working part because Stan hung up.

Ten minutes later, Stan waltzed in through the front door. "Yup. Smells WAY better than my house." He came into the kitchen where Kyle was struggling to frost his fourth cupcake. He stopped in his tracks. Kyle watched the dawning comprehension drift across Stan's blue eyes and the fear follow as he stared at a mountain of unfrosted cupcakes. Kyle silently grabbed Stan's wrist and pulled him down to the kitchen table. Stan sat. Stan stared blankly ahead. Kyle put a rubber spatula in Stan's limp hand. Stan sighed.

"Your mom's a monster. You know that, right?"

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed." Kyle pouted and scraped blue frosting over the cupcake.

Stan dipped his spatula into a tub of green frosting. Sheila had made what seemed to be gallons of the stuff in a million different colors and shades. Martha Stewart would have admired Sheila's zeal.

They frosted, talking and laughing. Stan seemed to go twice as fast as Kyle and gave him a great deal of grief for it. Kyle responded by frosting Stan's nose. Stan frosted Kyle's chin. Soon, they were out of green and blue frosting and covered in the sugary cream.

Laughing, Kyle dipped his spatula in a tub of white frosting. "White flag! I give up! I give up!"

The mound of blue frosting crinkled, revealing a set of white teeth smeared with blue. "Epic WIN!" shouted Stan. He stood up and danced over to Kyle, smooshing Kyle's green cheeks. "I _beat_ you, I _beat_ you," he sang.

Kyle blushed furiously under his thick layer of frosting. Stan clapped his green hands together and gave Kyle a wicked grin.

"By the power vested in me as the winner of the frosting fight," Stan said, "I hereby claim this frosting, and all frosting in the vicinity as my personal property."

"But-" Kyle began.

"Silence! You are covered in my frosting and are now mine. I own you."

Kyle laughed and sat straight up, hands in his lap. "Yes, master."

"Be still, for I wish to taste my frosting property!" Stan reached over to Kyle's face and took a finger full of green frosting away from his cheek. Kyle blushed hard as Stan stared into his eyes, but couldn't bring himself to look away.

Stan put his finger in his mouth and sucked the frosting off of it.

Kyle shuddered involuntarily. "I-is it good, m-master?" he stammered.

"Hard to say." Stan looked bemusedly at his clean hand. "It tasted too much like finger."

Before Kyle could say anything, Stan's arms were around his neck and he was licking Kyle's face and laughing.

Kyle laughed and half-tried to push Stan off, but Stan had a great grip and Kyle felt weakened by the feel of Stan's tongue on his chin.

The blue frosting on Stan's forehead found its way to Kyle's lips. Kyle paused. He felt Stan's tongue stop mid-lick. Kyle sucked on his lower lip and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he found Stan was staring at him, his head cocked slightly to one side.

_Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding!_

The egg timer above the stove interrupted them. Stan abruptly stood up. "More cupcakes to frost?"

Kyle smiled weakly. "Yeah. Hang on." Kyle made his way to the stove. He felt a little drunk. When he opened the oven door, he let the heat wash over his still-green face. What was he doing? Stan was his best friend. How could he ruin that by sucking his damn lips?? He swore to himself that for the rest of the day, he'd act like it hadn't happened. He didn't need to lose his super best friend over a little confusion.

He turned back to Stan, who was grinning as he wiped his face clean.

"Dude, you _really_ suck at frosting."

Kyle smiled back. "Shut up and help or mom will have us both doing chores all weekend."

Stan smiled and turned back to his cupcake.

"By the way, how'd she fill this one with mousse?"

* * *

_I'm at the bottom of the page!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Turns out I updated just in the nick of time, folks! Three minutes later, the power went out. Hooray for good timing and Red Bull!_

_It's a quick update, but thanks to everyone who comments, the newest being iPad. Not the device. The anonymous commenter. And kawa-kiree. And Ace Please. And Darkslayer18. Thank you guys so much! _

_It's also worth noting that not only Americans are reading this. I get all warm and fuzzy when I think about it, lol! There's a few Canadians, Brits, Germans (I have sooo many jokes about you guys, lol!), a New Zealander, a Finn, someone from Norway, an Irish person (don't know how to make it a noun, sorry! lol), a Frenchie, a Belgian, a Mexican and a Netherlander. That's amazing to me. _

_Unless you all just lied when Fanfic asked what country you're from. Lol._

Monday came too soon for Kyle's liking. Stan had spent the night on Saturday and Kyle had woken up in the middle of the night to find Stan's arm draped across Kyle's body. Kyle shuddered and debated for a minute the pros and cons of getting up to go to the bathroom. His bladder eventually won out.

When he got back into his sleeping bag, he tried to turn away from Stan so Stan wouldn't wake up and be embarrassed. Stan's threw his arm over Kyle's shoulders.

Then Kyle felt something nestle in the crook of his knees as Stan pulled himself closer to Kyle. Kyle was hesitant at first, but decided at last that since Stan was technically the "big spoon," he'd have no one to blame but himself if he woke up and felt weirded out. Kyle relaxed his back into Stan's chest through their sleeping bags and had the best dreams he'd had in living memory with Stan snoring softly against his neck.

When Kyle finally woke up, he was nose to nose with a certain Canadian seventh grader.

"IKE!" Kyle screamed and jolted up. Stan yelled in surprise and kicked Kyle's leg as Ike stared at him.

"Ike, are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Ike thought about that for a second.

"Yes."

So it was with a great deal of regret that Kyle had packed his lunch Monday morning to leave for school. Thankfully, things were never awkward between him and Stan, so when he picked him up, there was no mention of any of the gayer moments of their weekend. Stan smiled at Kyle and asked if he had brought his mom's cupcakes.

"In the trunk. I think she made too many."

Stan smiled. "Not if fatass brought his wallet today."

As it turned out, Cartman did indeed bring his wallet. As Stan and Kyle slammed the car doors shut, they saw him lumbering toward them.

Kyle waved at Cartman. "Hey, fa-"

"Cut the crap, Jew." Cartman shoved a sausage-like finger in Kyle's face. "Your mom called my mom on Friday and I KNOW you have them."

"What?"

"You have them and you're going to give them to everyone _else_, aren't you?" Cartman was spitting and turning a deep, angry purple.

"What the hell are you talking about, fatass?" Stan tried to pull Cartman away, but Cartman shoved him off roughly.

"The Jew cakes! I know you have Jew cakes and I want them!"

Kyle stared blankly at Cartman. "My mom's… cupcakes?"

"Yes, you damn heeb! The cupcakes!" Cartman seemed to be salivating. "Your mom told my mom she was going to try something new with them and I want them! How much?"

Kyle stammered. "H-how many?"

A glint of malice crossed Cartman's face. "I want all of them."

Stan looked shocked. "Dude, there's more than 200 cupcakes!"

Cartman grinned. "Nice."

"They're a dollar each, dude, but-" Cartman cut Kyle off.

"Not a problem. I brought my wallet."

"Are you insane, dude?" Stan looked shocked. "There's no way you'll be able to eat 216 cupcakes before they go bad!"

"Perhaps," said Cartman, "but they will be my cupcakes. For a Jew, Sheila makes a damn good case for the survival of her species."

Kyle was too excited about selling all the cupcakes to tell Cartman that Jews were not a different species. $228 later (Cartman had insisted on tipping like a Jew at 5% and Kyle 'forgot' to tell him he didn't need to tip) Stan and Kyle walked into homeroom.

Tweek greeted Kyle at the door and got within an inch of his face. He was pissed.

"You son of a bitch," Tweek murmured.

"Huh?"

"Do you have any idea how much coffee cake my mom made this weekend? DO YOU?"

Kyle backed up. "Dude, I'm sorry. My mom can go a little nuts sometimes."

"NO KIDDING!" Tweek roared. "And I had to run to the store constantly and pick up whatever she needed and I hate leaving her alone in the kitchen because what if she passes out from the heat and falls in the oven and when I finally get there to save her she's burned up and has to spend the rest of her life in the hospital communicating only by blinking Morse code until she tells me life is too unbearable for her and asks me to put her out of her misery but I can't kill my own mother, I just CAN'T!"

Kyle blinked.

Stan cut in. "Tweek, no one is going to kill your mother."

"GAH!"

Actually, Sheila had done a great job getting all the moms in South Park to participate. At lunch when the Romeo and Juliet cast and crew lined up the treats to sell, Butters shyly presented two pans of rice crispy treats.

"Gee whiz," he said, "I hope I can sell all of them."

Craig's mom made sugar cookies. Token's mom made some fancy looking cannoli. Wendy brought muffins, Bebe brought brownies, Kenny brought waffles and Clyde brought white chocolate cookies. Kyle was stunned at the mountain of food and quickly texted a "thank you" message to his mom (she replied promptly with a [;)]) and started calling out to kids to buy treats.

Wendy had painted a sign to hang on the table. She was taking her role as Juliet very seriously and would be damned if she didn't get to be front and center and publicly make out with Stan because of a few dollars.

Or, at least that's what Kyle thought bitterly to himself as she tearfully convinced a senior to buy half a plate of cookies.

Good as Wendy was, Bebe's cleavage was doing most of the selling. Lady Capulet purposely wore a tight red V-neck and leaned over whenever she saw a boy. Her brownies were gone and so were most of the rice crispy treats she had taken upon herself to sell by the time the first lunch period was over. Kenny was staring unabashedly, cheek in his palm as if looking at the sweetest puppy that ever lived.

He would later tell Kyle that they _were_ some pretty sweet puppies.

As most of the students in the school headed back to class, the theatre group stayed and cleaned up for the next lunch period.

Suddenly, Kyle heard a Big Gay Blubber. He turned around to see Big Gay Al sobbing into his ascot.

"Th-this is amazing!" he wept. "To think- so many people- care about this- this- play!" Big Gay Al's mascara ran in thick brown lines down his face.

Kyle blushed. He didn't want Big Gay Al to know his mother had done most of the caring.

"Well, how much do you have, Kyle?" Big Gay Al sniffed. "It looks like at least a hundred dollars!"

Kyle quickly counted all the money in the small metal box.

"Well," Kyle started, "including Cartman's money, we've got $438."

Big Gay Al jumped into the air. "Yippee! That's so super! It looks like this play's going to be the best one the school has ever seen!" He purchased a cookie and skipped back to the auditorium.

Stan laughed and Wendy caught his eye and started to laugh too. Kyle fumed inside.

"No one bought my waffles," Kenny said. "Does that mean I can keep them?

_Is there anything tastier than white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies? The answer to that is no. Except for drama in the Drama department. Stay tuned!_

_Also, last night when the power went out, I accidentally brushed my teeth with Neosporin. Thought that little tidbit might be good to know. Or something. Anyway, moral of the story: always know where your flashlight is._


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you, everyone who leaves reviews! It's really encouraging to see so many people reading this (938 hits and counting!). I know you probably don't really care about this part, lol, but thank you to everyone who comments. Ace Please, I'm At My All Time Low and Darkslayer18, I really appreciate your near constant reviews. Thank you, Dramatis Echo and cheesypoofs246, and UhmMe2, I'm sorry I creeped you out._

_Thank you to the Indonesian, Italian, Israeli, Brazilian, Thai, Japanese and Philippine readers. Most of you are probably asleep right now. Lol! That's so weird!_

_Sorry for the delay, been really weird lately._

_And sorry for the choppy last chapter. I wanted to reestablish characters before I got comfortable with the interactions. Cast list is as follows:_

_Romeo: Stan_

_Juliet: Wendy_

_Mercutio: Kenny_

_Nurse: Butters_

_Prince: Token_

_Tybalt: Cartman_

_Friar Lawrence: Clyde_

_Benvolio: Craig_

_Lady Capulet: Bebe_

_And the rest are all other grades or nameless. Whatever, lol. If Matt and Trey don't care about them, they must not be too important._

That afternoon's rehearsal was the most exciting one yet. With enough money in their pockets, the costume, set and makeup crew packed into a van and zoomed off to purchase their supplies. Tweek had protested that he didn't want to be in charge of directions, that it was too much pressure, but a mousy freshman girl told him to either grow a pair or his parents would be disappointed in him for the rest of his life. Kyle thought he smelled love in the air.

With only the actors, directors and techies left in the auditorium, Mr. Slave said that this was as good a time as ever to start rehearsing. A murmur of excitement swept through the room as the actors clamored onto the stage and into the wings.

A small freshman boy stood in the center of the stage, visibly shaking. Kyle referred to his blocking notes and nodded his encouragement.

"Um… So I just start?" The actors hiding in the wings giggled nervously.

"Yeah, just go ahead, Benjamin." Big Gay Al was as patient as they come with kids.

"Okay. Um. 'Two houses, both alike in dignity in fair Venice where we lay our scene-"

"Verona," Kyle interrupted.

"In fair Venice where we lay our Verona."

The auditorium filled with laughter. Poor Benjamin blushed, but he started laughing too when Kyle handed him his script. Stan caught Kyle's eye and laughed harder.

Kyle wiped a tear from his eye and grinned broadly at Stan. What had he been doing wasting time in DECA all these years? Between spending time with Stan, being Mr. Go-To Guy for twenty some-odd students and two adults, his mother's baking and the fun everyone seemed to have all the time, Kyle was having the time of his life.

Kyle kept virtually silent except to correct a missed line or a misstep in blocking until Tybalt was meant to enter.

Silence in the auditorium.

Craig repeated the entrance line with annoyance. "Put up your _swords_, you know not what you _do_."

Silence.

Finally, "Where the hell is Cartman?"

The wings shuffled with activity. Apparently Cartman was nowhere to be found.

Kyle dialed Cartman's number and tapped his foot.

A groggy voice answered. "Whaaa-aat…?"

"Cartman!" Kyle shouted. "Where the hell are you, douchbag?"

"I hate… you… stupid Jews."

"I don't have time for this, asshole! Get to rehearsal _now_."

"Your mom…"

"Don't say it, Cartman!"

"Your mom…"

"I'm warning you!"

"She put evil Jew juice in the cupcakes, didn't she? I just threw up, like, four times."

Kyle groaned. "How many did you eat, fatass?"

Cartman paused. "All of them."

"216 freaking CUPCAKES???" The actors crowded the apron of the stage to listen and the sound crew activated the microphones nearest to Kyle so they could hear. Even Big Gay Al and Mr. Slave were clearly listening.

"Oooh, Jesus Christ," sighed Mr. Slave.

"Well, no SHIT you're not feeling well…. No, it was not an evil plan, you're just a fat idiot…. Fine. But just for today, you hear?... Yeah. Sure. Get yourself some help, man." Kyle rolled his eyes and hung up.

"Stan," he called.

"Yeah?" he called back from somewhere in the crowd of students.

"Cartman wants you to know that he did, in fact, eat all the cupcakes before they went bad. Also, he says nyeh-nyeh-nyeh-nyeh-nyeh-nyeh, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha."

Stan guffawed loudly. Wendy giggled.

Ignoring his annoyance, Kyle shook his head at Big Gay Al.

Big Gay Al sighed. "Okay, students, take it from Capulet and Lady Capulet's entrance. Just be sure to look like you're fighting, okay? Pay attention to the blocking!"

The actors were conscientious about their lines and blocking, making few mistakes. Kyle made notes and watched, mostly. Then Stan shuffled onto the stage and Kyle forgot himself for a while.

Stan played the perfect love-sick puppy. His shoulders slumped and his voice sounded like it would soon crack into sobs of despair. But, somehow, Kyle found himself envying lucky Rosaline.

"Good Morrow, cousin," said Craig.

"Is the day so young?" responded Stan. Maybe it was because he'd had practice being Goth, but Kyle couldn't help but inwardly shudder and cry out to his best friend.

Stan was smooth; Stan was emotional; Stan was perfect. Kyle left his mouth open and watched in awe as Stan weaved his way through his lines effortlessly.

Suddenly, Kyle remembered where he had seen this before. He and Stan had had this conversation almost three years ago.

* * *

Wendy had broken up with Stan for the last time. Stan was distraught for days; he skipped class, he spent more and more time on his own- he had even hung sheets over his window so "the light of the sun doesn't touch me." Sharon Marsh began to think her son had joined a cult (again) and called Kyle to fix him up.

Kyle came bearing gifts of video games and cheesy poofs.

Stan was buried under his covers when his Super Best Friend arrived. He gave no greeting more than a grunt.

Kyle, who had seen Stan like this before, went straight for the windows.

"Dude," Kyle said as he tore the sheets down, "enough."

Stan mumbled something incoherent and crawled deeper within the confines of his bed.

Kyle ripped the covers off Stan, who hissed at him.

He was a total mess. He hadn't shaved in days, and as a high school freshman, the dark hair grew patchy and spattered across his face. He was in his underwear and he was incredibly pale, and it was clear that he hadn't washed his hair in a while. Kyle thought someone had switched his best friend out with a hobo.

"How many times do we have to do this, Stan?" Kyle asked. "So Wendy dumped you. You'll be back together in a matter of weeks."

"No, dude," Stan mumbled. "We're over. For good."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "She says that all the time, man. I bet you're back together by the biology test next Wednesday."

Stan sat up. "No," he said. "We're over. We're done."

"Okay," Kyle said. "Okay. Can you at least take a shower before we declare your pits a WMD?"

Stan smiled slightly and sniffed himself. "Dude," he coughed. "Gross!"

Clean and dressed half an hour later, the boys sat in Stan's living room playing Zombie Lightning Death Match. Stan was still quiet and seemed angry about something, but Kyle figured he'd just take his anger out on the zombie ninjas.

Suddenly, Stan started crying.

He sniffed at first, wiping his face discreetly. Then a fat tear rolled down his face. Before Kyle knew it, Stan's zombie was dead and he was quaking with silent sobs.

Kyle put down the controller and faced Stan, who looked back up at him, ashamed and unable to stop the flow of tears.

"Hey," Kyle said, putting a hand gently on Stan's shoulder. "For what it's worth, I don't think she ever deserved you."

Stan let out a loud sob and hugged Kyle tightly. Kyle held his friend as Stan's tears and snot soaked his shirt.

For a good ten minutes they sat like that, silent except for the ebb and flow of Stan's sobs. Kyle understood. Wendy had caused Stan so much heartbreak over the past five years, he was actually surprised that Stan hadn't done this before. She was cruel, Kyle decided, for playing games with Stan's feelings like this, almost as if he was a doll and not a living human.

When they finally pulled apart, Stan looked relieved and exhausted.

"I'm sorry, dude," he said.

Kyle laughed. "Forget it, man. You didn't do anything wrong."

Stan smiled slightly. "You know," he said. "It actually _is_ over between me and Wendy. For good this time."

"Great, so you're finally ready to find another girl? Maybe one that isn't a psycho?"

Stan shook his head. "I don't _want_ another girl."

"You say that now," Kyle said, "but you never know. There's a million girls out there who make Wendy look like Gollum."

"No, man," Stan protested. "I don't want another girl."

Kyle shrugged and restarted the game. "Fine, man. Stay lonely."

When he looked back at Stan, Stan was staring at him curiously, softly.

Kyle responded the mature way- he hit Stan's Zombie with a blitz combo.

* * *

Craig's voice snapped Kyle out of his ponderings.

"By giving liberty unto thine eyes. Examine other beauties."

Stan looked at Kyle. "'Tis the way," he shrugged.

After Craig and Stan finished their scene, Big Gay Al stood up and clapped his hands loudly above his head. The actors murmured their approval and shuffled to get their belongings and head home.

Stan didn't move. Kyle didn't move. Stan was staring at Kyle the same way he had stared at him three years before.

Softly. Sweetly.

Regretfully.


	7. Chapter 7

"No, Stan," said an irritated Kyle. "We are _not_ playing Truth or Dare."

Stan pouted in the passenger's seat. "Come on, dude, it'll be fun!"

"_No_," Kyle repeated. "You always make me do gross shit."

"Not my fault. _You _pick dare."

Kyle sputtered. "Only because your 'Truths' are so inappropriate!"

Stan grinned. "Aw, honey, I thought we could _always _be totally honest with each other!"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Asking if I've ever had a naughty dream about bees and butter isn't within the boundaries of a _normal_ honest relationship."

Stan, who never wore his seatbelt anyway, slid in his seat over to Kyle until he was snuggling Kyle's arm. "Aw, who wants to be normal anyway?"

Kyle blushed and pulled into Stan's driveway. Stan felt a bit shaky on his lines so Kyle was staying over to help him study them cover to cover. They were planning on making a night of it, with pizza, popcorn and pillow fights (probably).

They walked in and there was an immediate sense of doom in the air. Kyle stopped. Stan rolled his eyes.

Randy Marsh stormed out of the kitchen.

"_NO_, Sharon, I MEAN it!" he shouted over his shoulder. "There is no way I'm trying that… that… _thing_ while I'm still alive!"

"You ate _Sheila's_ cupcakes," Sharon yelled, following Randy with a mixing bowl. "You love her, don't you?!?" She was covered in what seemed to be lime pudding and chocolate cake mix

"Sharon, there's a difference between being in love with someone and eating a cupcake they made!" Randy had to duck to avoid the slimy green whisk Sharon chucked at him.

Stan tugged Kyle's sleeve and motioned him upstairs. Randy and Sharon loved each other very much, but getting caught in the crossfire was often dangerous. The best thing to do until the atmosphere cooled down was to take cover in Stan's room.

Stan shut his door as Kyle flung himself on the bed, flipping the script open to Act II.

"You ready, Romeo?" Kyle grinned.

"You bet," Stan replied. "Pizza'll be here in 20 minutes, popcorn can wait till Mom and Dad get out of the kitchen and I stuffed a bar of soap in my pillow just in case you attempt a preemptive attack. Be warned."

Kyle laughed. "Fantastic. Scene 4, we'll just skip to Romeo's entrance, 'kay?"

"Yes, Mr. Stage Manager."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "'Without his roe, like a dead herring: flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified!' Fishified, is this a typo? I don't think that's a word."

"Trust me, Dork Of Ages, it's not a typo."

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "Huh. Okay, um, blah blah blah, Laura's love, marry, blah blah… 'Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gypsy; Helen and Hero hildings and harlots-' you, know what? How 'bout we just go from your first line." Kyle was suddenly self-conscious. He didn't like eyes on him for more than 15 seconds at a time, even if those eyes were the ones that he craved more than any other pair in the world.

Stan laughed. "Okay, dude. 'Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?"

"'The ship, sir, the slip! Can you not conceive?' Wait, is Romeo shooting blanks?"

"Pardon, good Mercutio'," Stan ignored Kyle. "'My business was great, and in such a case as mine, one may strain courtesy.'"

"'That's as much to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow at the hams.'"

"'Meaning, to court'sy.'"

"'Thou hast most kindly hit it.'" Kyle and Stan grinned broadly at each other and went on.

"'A most courteous exposition,'" said Stan.

"'Nay, I am the very pink of… of…" Kyle suddenly went very white.

"Dude," said Stan. "_You're_ the one holding the script. What gives?"

Kyle mumbled something about pink.

"Huh"

"G-g-Goatse," Kyle sputtered. "Ruined pink, man… _forever_."

Stan looked confused. "You mean you _liked _pink before Goatse? That's a little gay."

Kyle blushed. "Says the guy who doodles hearts all over his notebooks!"

"They're easy to draw! And at least I don't have naughty dreams about Jon Stewart!"

"That sure doesn't sound like 'never speaking about again', Stan! At least I don't have a bee fetish!"

"They're like tiny workaholics who vibrate! I like a girl with shit on her mind!"

Kyle threw a pillow at Stan and caught him on the jaw. He landed with a dull thud onto the floor.

"Oh no, you didn't," Stan said.

Kyle didn't know how long they beat the hell out of each other with pillows, but when the doorbell finally rang with pizza, both were sweaty and panting and covered in pillow stuffing. Kyle could feel a few bruises rising- the soap in the pillowcase was a dirty, dirty trick.

The boys went back upstairs with their pizza and popcorn. As soon as Kyle shut the door, Stan pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his heaving chest and sweating muscles and abs. Kyle found himself staring. Football was good to him, he thought. Football was very, very good to him.

Stan grinned. "So are we gonna do this or what?" Kyle felt his cheeks burn.

"Um… what?"

Stan followed Kyle's gaze to his stomach. His entire body was dewy with sweat. He grinned. "It's hot in here."

Kyle snapped himself out of what he called his "fag-tard" state and rolled his eyes. "Anything to show off the muscles, huh, Stan?"

Stan laughed and struck a pose. "Muscles? What muscles?" He was very proud of his football body, and even though it was off-season, he was way more toned than Kyle.

Kyle grumbled something about Stan's ego and both of them laughed. Stan threw himself on the bed with a recently demolished pillow.

After he set the pizza box down, Kyle decided to see Stan's wager and stripped his shirt off.

Stan's eyes widened. "Ever heard of something called 'sun?'" he asked.

"Ha ha." Kyle said sarcastically as he sat next to Stan. "I get it. 'Cuz I'm pale."

"Pasty," Stan corrected him.

"Whatever. I'm hot and I'll be damned if I have to sit in that sticky shirt all night."

Stan nuzzled up against Kyle's chest. "You _are_ hot, aren't you, sweetie?" Kyle pushed him and he laughed.

Kyle thumbed through the script. "So you wanna continue the Romeo-Mercutio banter?"

"Actually," Stan said," I was hoping you could help me with Scene 2."

Kyle looked at Stan. "The balcony scene? I thought you had that down pat."

"I don't know, dude. It doesn't feel right, yet. I think I need to seriously tweak it."

Kyle sighed. "Your call, diva." Stan giggled.

"Let's start at your entrance. Aaaaand, go."

"'But soft,'" Stan exclaimed gently. "'What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,  
Who is already sick and pale with grief,  
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:  
Be not her maid, since she is envious;  
Her vestal livery is but sick and green  
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.  
It is my lady, O, it is my love!  
O, that she knew she were!  
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?  
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.  
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:  
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,  
Having some business, do entreat her eyes  
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.  
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?  
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,  
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven  
Would through the airy region stream so bright  
That birds would sing and think it were not night.  
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!  
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,  
That I might touch that cheek!'"

Kyle nodded his encouragement. "'Ay, me,'" he said without much enthusiasm.

"'She speaks! Oh, speak again, bright angel!for thou art  
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head  
As is a winged messenger of heaven  
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes  
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him  
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds  
And sails upon the bosom of the air.'"

"'Romeo, Romeo. Wherefore art thou, Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name.

Or, if thou wilt not-'"

"I'm sorry," Stan interrupted. "Can I stop you for a second?"

Kyle looked up. "What?"

"Well, it's just…" Stan seemed to be working out the words in his head so they would be tactful and apt. "You just really suck."

"Hey!" Kyle said. "I'm not the actor here, _you_ are! I'm just running lines because you asked me to!"

"I know, I know," Stan said, "and I really appreciate it. But I need to get the mood down if I'm gonna be any good, and it's just so much easier when Juliet is believable."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Doesn't Wendy help you with that?" He had done it nonchalantly, but Kyle had breached his unspoken contract with Stan to pretend Wendy didn't exist.

It was going to be a long night.

"Kyle, dude," Stan said seriously, "I don't feel anything for Wendy. It's like acting at a wall. You gotta make it believable. Please?"

Kyle blushed and nodded. "Sure, dude. Same place?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Stan smiled gratefully.

"Okay. Uh, 'Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name;

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn by my love,

And I'll no longer be a Capulet.'" Kyle tried to picture what a 14-year-old girl would sound like whining about the guy she likes.

"'Shall I hear more,'" Stan said, "'Or shall I speak at this?'"

"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy,

Thou art thyself though not a-' Um, this is all Juliet speak. Don't you wanna skip to your lines?"

"It's for mood, remember?" replied Stan. "Just do it."

Kyle sighed. "'Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.'"

They kept going, both deeply immersed in the play. Kyle found he was enjoying himself, despite the fact that he had never acted before in his life, besides the 4th grade Thanksgiving play. Suddenly, he felt like he _was_ Juliet speaking with Romeo. He felt the lovesickness bleed into his speech. It was an outlet. Shakespeare, though he had lived more than 400 years ago, gave Kyle the words he had always wanted to say but never could. It was relieving to say it to Stan without a whole production (pardon the punnery) following. Kyle found himself deeper and deeper in the words.

"'Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,  
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek  
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night  
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny  
What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!  
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'  
And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,  
Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries  
Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,  
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:  
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,  
I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,  
So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.  
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,  
And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:  
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true  
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.  
I should have been more strange, I must confess,  
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,  
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me,  
And not impute this yielding to light love,  
Which the dark night hath so discovered.'"

Kyle was met with silence.

He looked back at Stan to see if he was still listening. As it was, Stan was on his side, watching Kyle intently. His shirtless body lay with an easy grace, breathing slowly and evenly.

Kyle stared back into Stan's eyes, the piercing blue that seemed to drown him every night in his sleep.

"Lady," Stan whispered, "by yonder blessed moon I swear."

Kyle smiled softly and held Stan's gaze. He wanted to tell Stan everything in that moment. The moment he first realized he loved Stan. How hard it was the day after. How hard it had been to watch him with other people. The fluttering sensation in his stomach right now. The Craving, as he called it. The wishing he had been born someone Stan could love the way Kyle loved him. How he stayed up some nights wondering what Stan was dreaming about. The jealousy. The pining. The frustration. The depression. Each and every fantasy, some of which, if he was perfectly honest, involved bees. He wanted to pour his heart onto Stan's and he wanted to hear the same from his best friend.

But what came out was, "fagger."


	8. Chapter 8

_Omg, I am sooooo sorry for the slow update! I've been really lazy lately, lol! Plus, Prom planning and graduation take a lot out of ya. _

_Thank you to crazinessXD, Ace Please, Love it!, cheesypoofs246, Madam RedRose 25, Darkslayer18 and tfro97. You guys are the best. I mean, I love everyone who reads, I just love the commenters a leeeetle bit more _

Kyle had never had stranger dreams than the ones he had that night. Stan had fallen asleep against his chest and for what seemed like hours, Kyle watched the steady rise and fall of his body. Stan's legs tended to twitch like a puppy deep in a dream and he even giggled. Kyle loved this about his best friend.

When Kyle had finally fallen asleep, he could still feel the weight of Stan's body against his own. He dreamt of being pushed, of being drowned, of being thrown- but he dreamed most of being kissed. Even in his own dream version of the _Enterprise_, Kyle kept getting kissed (not that he was complaining- William Shatner was delicious in his prime.) It was the strangest feeling, lips tingling while trying to recalculate the ship's fuel pressure with a sabotaged Engineering Room.

Monday brought sunshine and optimism for Kyle Broflovski. This was the last full week of rehearsals before _Romeo and Juliet_ finally ran. For having only a month and a half before dissed theatre as the dumbest waste of time since Pong, Kyle found himself loving everything about it. He loved how the costume crew could take a few yards of fabric and turn it into something magnificent. He loved watching the set materialize before his eyes. He loved the theatrical makeup and the atmospheric lighting and the acoustics.

And he loved the actors.

Kyle found himself understanding the art of acting after Friday night- he appreciated the imagination and fortitude it took to fully become someone else and found that each of the actors, including Cartman, had something special to bring to the set and contribute to the play.

Or, he _thought _so until SOMEONE went all "prima donna" on him.

Monday became hell the second Kyle walked into math class. The small clump of theatre students sat in a corner, whispering anxiously. As soon as Tweek spotted Kyle, he let out a loud 'YEEP' and everyone turned. Stan looked worried. Butters was biting his nails. Kenny was biting his lip to keep from laughing.

Bebe ran right up to Kyle. "Don't be mad," she said and held Kyle's shoulders as if he was about to attack someone. "Don't be mad."

Kyle looked at her. "Dude, what?"

Bebe swallowed. "Wendy isn't coming today."

Kyle stopped breathing for a second. "What?"

"She can't come," Bebe said hurriedly. "She doesn't feel well."

"Well, does she KNOW we're doing a complete run-through today?"

"Yeah, she knows."

"She'd better have cancer or something because if she sets us back I'm going to kill her!" Kyle was fuming. Always the perfectionist, he had counted on a smooth last week to nudge everything into sweet, sweet flawlessness. His mind suddenly ran through everything that still had to be done with Wendy- she needed her final fitting today, she was shaky on all her scenes with Stan and Butters still didn't feel completely natural with her. As much as he hated to think it, he knew the entire production needed Wendy.

Bebe blushed. "Actually, she can't come because she's…" Bebe looked around. "She's cramping."

Kyle felt himself flush. "You're telling me right now that the star of the show can't come to rehearsal because she's on her period."

"I tried to convince her to come, but she just isn't feeling well today!" Bebe looked frantic and squeezed Kyle's shoulders tighter.

Stan stood up. "It's okay, man. We can manage."

Kyle glared. "She is not getting away with this. Do you hear me?"

The whole theatre group nodded their agreements.

"Wendy Testaburger," Kyle shouted, "welcome to the Kyle Broflovski shit-list!"

The students that weren't involved in the play stared at them like a herd of mental patients.

So Kyle ended up reading Juliet's part. Again. But this time, it was in front of people. And even though Stan tried to be as encouraging as he could through Romeo's lines, Kyle couldn't seem to shake the willies.

Every time he stuttered or messed up a line, Kyle blushed and cursed Wendy further into Hell. When he fumbled the blocking, he pictured her strapped down on a bullet ant hill. And each time Stan looked into his eyes as Romeo, Kyle imagined stomping Wendy's teeth in for putting him in this vulnerable position.

Soon after Scene 2, Kyle began to relax and improve. He could tell everyone was impressed, but he was still furious.

Worse was during the 15-minute break midway through the rehearsal. Before he could leave to get a soda from the vending machine, Kyle was accosted by the costume crew.

The tiny Asian girl leading the pack came up to him bearing a pen and clipboard. "How wide are your hips?"

Kyle was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"Wendy isn't here," the girl said, "but we still need to do a fitting so we can make the final adjustments on her dress."

"Sorry, Sue," Kyle laughed, "but Wendy and I aren't even close to the same size."

Suddenly, a hand cupped Kyle's ass and he jumped. "I don't know," Bebe said, coming around him to look. "You're the same height and your butts are nearly identical."

Kyle felt his face get hot. "We aren't even close," he almost whispered.

And then they were on him like wolves- Kyle saw nothing but underclassmen and measuring tape and heard nothing but numbers that meant nothing to him. Sue nodded and scribbled as fast as her tiny hand would let her and Kenny, coming up behind Bebe, laughed loudly and obnoxiously.

When the pack drew away, they conferred with their leader for about 5 seconds before grabbing Kyle's wrists and dragging him to the changing rooms. One of them wordlessly stuffed paper into a bra and strapped it on over Kyle's shirt. As he opened his mouth to protest or scream for help or whatever his mouth planned to do, the costume crew leader, without looking up from her clipboard, addressed him.

"This is the job you took. The show has to go on and it won't unless you cooperate." A strip of measuring tape stretched across Kyle's paper boobs and two crewmembers carried a mountain of maroon faux velvet over to him.

The leader looked Kyle straight in the eye. "You're almost a dead match for Wendy's size. Thank God- now all we need to do is make sure it fits you."

Kyle went very white as his world went dark.

Two seconds later, his head popped out of the heavy neck-hole.

The crew set about with their measuring tapes and pencils and pins. They pushed Kyle's arms outward, but the weight of the fabric, and Kyle's general lack of muscle, made it impossible to keep them there.

Kyle caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as the crew rushed around him and he was breathless. The design looked like something out of a story book- the red fabric was broken up by intricate designs of golden rope and a white under-layer that the cut revealed beautifully. The costume crew was certainly talented.

But what amazed Kyle most about the dress was how he felt so comfortable in it. His freckled face looked back at him, utterly peaceful despite the bustle around him. His shoulder-length curly red hair fell gracefully on the fabric and he smiled at his reflection.

"Hey, sexy," said a voice behind him.

_Oh my God, you guys, I am soooo sorry about how long this took! And it wasn't even that good! I'll try to make it up to you in the next chapter. _


	9. Chapter 9

_**OMG, you guys, I am soooooo sorry for the wait! Really, I feel awful. I'm gonna try to get the last chapter out as soon as possible (yes, it is almost over **____**) to make up for the massive amount of waiting you guys have been doing. Thank you, and I love each and every one of you readers! But especially Darkslayer18, Ace Please, happy233, imjustlikeyou12 and tfro97. Thanks, you guys! And Darkslayer, if Admiral Ackbar heard your mistake he'd shoot you in the brains. But for my part, you're totally forgiven **___

_**Also, I really like this chapter. Just thought I'd say so.**_

Erwin Schrödinger theorized that nothing occurs until we observe it. A tree wouldn't fall unless someone was there to watch it. A bird wouldn't sing unless someone was there to hear it. The cold wouldn't bite unless someone was there to feel it.

Kyle Broflovski always thought Erwin Schrödinger was full of crap.

However, as Kyle stood in the middle of a brightly lit dressing room wearing a heavy velvet era-piece as a dozen girls bustled around him with scissors and tape measures, Kyle prayed that he was wrong. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed and prayed to God that when he opened his eyes to observe, the person who said "Hey, sexy" would be anyone- ANYONE- other than who it sounded like. He prayed so hard that for a brief moment, somewhere on a mountain deep within the African desert, a bush burst into flame to respond. However, after looking around and finding no one to talk to, the bush wondered what it was doing on fire and promptly died.

After a time, Kyle heard giggles from behind him. He sheepishly opened one eye and raised it to the corner of the mirror in front of him. Yup. It had to be him. Stan Marsh had to walk in on Kyle wearing a dress against his will. Kyle silently yelled at God for hating him and the dead bush in Africa shivered in confusion.

Stan let out a laugh. "Hold still, dude, I gotta send this to Kenny."

Had Kyle been able to move his arms, he'd have spun around and knocked the camera phone out of Stan's hand. As it was, Kyle was powerless to do anything but groan against the heavy fabric of the dress and costume crew pulling the cloth this way and that.

"Dude," Kyle pleaded over his shoulder, "Please. I'm humiliated enough as it is; don't bring anyone else into this."

Kyle heard the digital snap of Stan's camera and his heart sank.

"I don't know what you're so upset about, dude," said Stan, coming around to face Kyle. "Your ass looks _amazing_ in this!" He snapped a picture of Kyle's front. "Where'd you get the knockers?"

A costume crew member at Kyle's right hip snickered and Kyle flashed her a death glare.

"Are we almost done here?" asked Kyle, brick red and steaming.

The small Asian girl with the clipboard smiled up at him. "We've been done for ten minutes."

"GRAAAAHH!"

After rehearsal finished, Kyle and Stan walked to Kyle's car together. Kyle hadn't said a word after the death scene (in which he was forced to play Juliet) and Stan looked worried about him. When they got in the car, Kyle immediately turned on the radio.

For a while, the two boys drove in silence to Lady Gaga. Then Stan, who could no longer tolerate Kyle's moodiness or the crappy repetitious beat, turned off the radio.

"Okay, Kyle. What's up?"

Any other person in the world would have seen Kyle's face and thought he was a happy little teenager. But Stan, who had known Kyle for nearly 17 years, knew that when the little 'V' appeared between his friend's eyebrows, he was contemplating murder.

"I am fine," replied Kyle with only a hint of blinding hatred. "Everything is fine. I am not upset that Wendy played sick today. I am not upset that I had to play Juliet. And I am certainly not upset that I spent 20 minutes in a hot and heavy woman's dress as a sadistic little bitch prolonged my suffering enough to give my best friend blackmail material. Life is great."

Stan looked at Kyle. "Are you sure?"

Kyle nearly drove of the road as the string of obscenities raced out of his mouth at Stan. Despite himself, Stan giggled into his hand.

Kyle pulled over. "What about that is funny to you?"

Stan laughed and flipped his phone open. He handed it to Kyle and Kyle saw.

The dress was ridiculous. Though its seeming beauty on the hanger and in a dirty mirror had amazed Kyle, Stan's phone captured everything in perspective. The red of the fabric was garish and bright. The stitching was clumsy and one segment, at a point Kyle assumed the crew had run out of gold thread, was bright blue. The detail was klutzy and the cut was outrageous. In short, it looked like a parody of High School drama. Kyle couldn't help but laugh.

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen!" Kyle laughed loudly.

"Wait till you see the front," said Stan. When he opened the new picture, Kyle nearly died.

"Is Sue freaking _color blind_? There is no WAY she thinks that matches!"

Kyle drove back onto the road, laughing heartily with Stan. When he pulled up to his friend's house, Kyle turned to him.

"Thanks, man. You always know just what I need to get out of a funk."

"The pleasure is mine, Sexy Bear."

Then two things happened simultaneously.

Stan leaned in to kiss Kyle on the cheek, and

Randy Marsh ran outside covered in hot pink gunk, screaming "RAPE! RAPE!"

The result was that just as Stan was trying to kiss Kyle's perfectly placed cheek, a relatively common occurrence, Kyle turned his head to watch Randy and the kiss landed on his lips instead.

For a second, the two boys just sat there, lips together, looking altogether confused about their situation. Then Kyle flushed crimson and Stan pulled his head away awkwardly.

Stan opened his door and climbed out of the car silently. He turned to Kyle and opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it and waved at Kyle noncommittally. Stunned, Kyle watched his best friend walk past Sharon Marsh beating her husband with a whisk and into his house.

When Kyle's mother asked at dinner how the play was coming along, Kyle freaked out. "NOTHING! NO ONE! FINE!" Sheila said she thought Kyle might be coming down with something, and after feeling his forehead (which had blushed more often that day than Kyle cared to count) sent him upstairs with a bowl of kreplach to rest.

Kyle sat on his bed and thought about what he had to do. He had to apologize to Stan. He had to confront Wendy. He had to never speak of his accidental kiss with his super best friend with anyone. He had to convince Stan to do the same. He had to steal Stan's phone and delete those pictures. He had to tactfully tell Sue the dress was horrible. He had to keep on Wendy's ass to come to every rehearsal. He had to do his math homework. He had to write an essay about Napoleon.

Then a tingle ran through Kyle's lips. He paused his list making and touched them lightly. He smiled. There was only one thing that really mattered to him today.

Also, he had to get some Chapstick.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Thanks for waiting, everybody! Imjustlikeyou12, Darkslayer18, Phobeea, Recipe for Trouble, endmysoup (lol name!), LaughingAngelsGibberish, I'm An All American Reject, medusa750, and kammy147 (whew!), thank you so much for the comments! They really brighten up my day, thank you.**_

_**This is not the last chapter. I thought it would be, but it proved too long to fit into one chapter. So instead of a superlong chapter, we have two long chapters and a bit of suspense. I'm working on getting the last one out as soon as possible.**_

Two of the most frightening words in the English language are "opening" and "night." When put together, these words can cause any rational human being to become a nervous ball of energy and irritability. In extreme cases, physical illness can occur.

On South Park High School's opening night of _Romeo and Juliet_, this illness spread like wildfire. Leopold "Butters" Stotch fainted 3 hours before he was due to play the Nurse. Craig Tucker spent the better part of the morning hunched over the toilet and crying like an 8-year-old girl. Bebe Stevens ended up in the fetal position for four straight hours.

It seemed like the only person taking Opening Night in stride was Kyle Broflovski. Though Stan Marsh, Kenny McCormack and even Eric Cartman had come to his house for comfort and cupcakes, Kyle was calm and collected, even excited.

"Five hours until curtain call!" Kyle called from the kitchen. He heard sobs and gags in the living room as his friends (and Cartman) cried out in terror. Kyle walked back into living room with three steaming bowls of chicken soup for the actors and laughed.

Stan was covered in an ornamental rug on the couch, eyes full of horror and tears. Kenny curled up into a tight little ball, hiding his face. Cartman laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, face covered in frosting. Kyle set the soup on the table and turned off the TV.

"What the hell are you doing watching _Romeo and Juliet_, you guys?"

Stan broke into a fresh sob. "I suck! How am I supposed to compete with Leonardo DiCaprio, huh?"

"And I'm not black!" cried Kenny.

Cartman belched.

Kyle turned on Terrence and Phillip. All three boys sat up and watched, mesmerized.

Babysitting isn't nearly as hard as some people think.

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Four hours later, everything was movement. Big Gay Al and Mr. Slave called out instructions and each crew moved in a delicate ballet around each other to get things done. The set stood magnificent. The sound crew tested and ran through its effects. Lights of all colors and consistencies danced across the stage and seats as actors ran through lines and blocking with each other.

Kyle was on breakdown duty. He carried a plastic bag full of paper lunch bags and lavender scented spray (Big Gay Al had insisted) and walked around to comfort hyperventilating girls and weeping boys. It was interesting.

He had just given a third paper bag to Tweek when Bebe and Kenny walked up to him. Kyle smiled and handed each of them a paper bag. They exchanged glances and handed them back. 

"Kyle," Kenny said, "please sit down."

Kyle rolled his eyes and turned back to Tweek. Bebe turned Kyle around to face her.

"You're really gonna wanna sit for this."

Kenny told Tweek to beat it.

Kyle sat on the prop box and faced them. Bebe handed him a paper bag and motioned for him to open it.

"What's this about?" Kyle asked. "I have stuff to do."

"We know," Kenny said.

"Kyle," started Bebe, "do you remember when you made Wendy cry for not coming to rehearsal last week?"

"Kyle suppressed a grin. "Yeah?"

"Well, you didn't do a good enough job."

Silence.

"What?"

"I tried to make her come, I swear I did, but she just won't! I tried everything! I bribed her! I threatened her! I told her I'd buy her a purse! Kyle, I offered to get on my knees and pleasure her and she still won't come!"

"Cramps again?" Kyle yelled. "Fuck it, I'll get her a goddamn truckload of aspirin, just get her here right now!"

"It isn't cramps," Kenny said.

"It's much, much worse," said Bebe.

"It's a bob."

Kyle paused. "…What?"

"She went to the hair stylist's yesterday and the stylist gave her a bob! A BOB, Kyle!"

"WHAT?" Kyle turned a furious shade of red and the makeup crew behind him jumped.

"She refused to be seen like this. Nothing I say will make her come."

Kenny sniggered.

"You two realize we go on in half an hour."

"Yes we do."

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose and stood up. "Okay, both of you need to get to dressing and makeup. I'll find someone who knows Juliet's part well enough to stand in."

"And the dress!"

"And hopefully fits into the dress. Al and Slave know?"

Kenny looked away. "We told them, but they got loud and frenetic and acted like they couldn't hear us."

"Great."

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Fifteen minutes later Kyle had asked every girl and effeminate boy on every crew to stand in, but they were all either terrified or could not remember any of the lines. He texted Big Gay Al to blacklist Wendy from all future plays and let out an angry sigh. All the actors were in the green room, all the crews were in their stations and the auditorium was slowly filling. Kyle was alone.

Suddenly, a voice filled Kyle's head. "This is the job you took, you took, you took."

Kyle stood up and looked around. The room was dark , so he reached for the light switch.

Tiny Asian face.

Kyle yelped as the costume manager leaned in at him. "Sue, what?" he yelled.

"This is the job you took," she said. "The show must go on."

Kyle let that statement settle in his brain. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. No way."

The makeup director came up behind Sue. "Kyle, we've busted our asses for almost two months. All of us. We need this."

"No way," Kyle said. "I'm not doing it. Not for peace in the fucking Middle East would I even _consider_ that."

"Please," said Sue. "Don't let one selfish little bitch throw away all our hard work. That's just not fair to anyone."

The room had a window to the green room. Kyle glanced in.

Butters was fidgeting with the hem of his dress and turning green. It seemed Bebe and Kenny hadn't told any of the actors because they were all smiling nervously and making little jokes rather than throwing tables and props and people like Kyle wanted to do.

Stan was the only one looking around nervously. He glanced at his watch and ignored Clyde when he showed concern. His foot tapped at a million beats a minute and he fumbled with the ties on his shirt. Suddenly he turned green and grabbed one of Kyle's paper bags just in time to catch his vomit.

He needed a Juliet.

Kyle turned back to the pleading girls and sighed.

"You'd better make me prettier than Wendy."

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The play began the same as it always did during rehearsal. The mousy little freshman named Ben stood at the side of the stage with a spotlight on him and recited the opening lines. He was firm and graceful now that he got the willies out of his system and everything was going smoothly.

The only difference was Kyle wasn't in the wings ready to mouth the lines if the actors needed him. Kyle was backstage being dressed and made up to look like a Juliet. His hair, when ironed, reached past his chin and three girls were struggling to manipulate it into the perfect style. The dress lay heavy across his body and shoulders and a determined makeup director painted his lips and brushed powder across his cheeks, eyelids and neck. When Kyle found himself in the mirror after they were done, he looked like a three-dollar whore.

"Alright!" he barked at the crew. "Try again. Less loop in the hair, less eye shadow, less blush, and someone find a different shade of lipstick before I lose it!

Kyle, of course, ended up doing all the makeup and hair himself, eliciting 'oohs' and 'ahhs' from the crew. He looked at himself in the mirror and felt the strangest mixture of pride and shame. Sure, he'd done a great job, but now he looked like a woman. A beautiful woman, but a woman.

Kyle ran to the wings to wait for Juliet's entrance and suddenly had a lot more respect for all the women he knew that wore heels.

Bebe and Butters were in their places. Bebe looked antsy and said her line with hesitation.

"Nurse, where's my daughter? Call her forth to me."

Butters, who didn't seem to know that Wendy had gone AWOL, responded beautifully, almost cheerily.

"Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,  
I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!  
God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!"

Kyle walked onto stage shakily. "How now? Who calls?"

Butters turned to Kyle and his mouth dropped open. Bebe caught a gasp in her throat and covered her mouth.

"Y-your mother," Butters stammered.

"Madam, I am here," Kyle winked at Bebe. "What is your will?"

"Uh," Bebe began. "This is the matter:-Nurse, give leave awhile,  
We must talk in secret."

Butters glanced back at Kyle.

"Nurse, come back again," Bebe continued.  
"I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.  
Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age."

"I-I can tell her age, um, up till the hour…" Butters was beginning to lose control, and the audience was beginning to pick up that something wasn't right. Mutters ran through the crowd like a steady ripple and Kyle began to panic.

"She's not fourteen," said Bebe.

Butters was sweating. "I'll lay… I'll lay…" Sensing disaster, Kyle reached for Butters' arm and gave him a confidant, brilliant smile that told Butters that everything was under control. Without saying a word, Kyle told him that everything was fine, and Butters wouldn't have to change a thing, just keep on doing what he had been doing for the past two months. Kyle exuded a calm that he hoped was contagious to both Bebe and Butters.

"Oh, Jesus," Butters murmured.

"Mother," put in Kyle, "how long is it now to Lammas-tide?"

Butters perked up and looked at Kyle.

"A fortnight and odd days," said Bebe.

Butters took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut for his monologue.

"Even or odd, of all days in the year,  
Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.  
Susan and she-God rest all Christian souls!-  
Were of an age: well, Susan is with God;  
She was too good for me: but, as I said,  
On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;  
That shall she, marry; I remember it well.  
'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;  
And she was wean'd,-I never shall forget it,-  
Of all the days of the year, upon that day:  
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,  
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;  
My lord and you were then at Mantua:-  
Nay, I do bear a brain:-but, as I said,  
When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple  
Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,  
To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!  
Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,  
To bid me trudge:  
And since that time it is eleven years;  
For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,  
She could have run and waddled all about;  
For even the day before, she broke her brow:  
And then my husband-God be with his soul!  
A' was a merry man-took up the child:  
'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?  
Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;  
Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame,  
The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'  
To see, now, how a jest shall come about!  
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,  
I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he;  
And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay."

Butters opened his eyes and breathed a deep gulp of air. A few pockets of the audience giggled lightly at his nervousness. Bebe and Kyle breathed a sigh of relief and finished their scene.

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Backstage, Bebe caught up with Kyle before costume change.

"What the hell is going on?" she whispered.

"No one else knows the part. The show must go on. Long story."

"No," said Bebe, "I mean what the hell is going on with your hair?"

Kyle blinked.

"Meet me in the dressing room," Bebe rolled her eyes. "I'll fix you up."

Kyle started to run.

"Kyle?"

He looked back at Bebe.

"Thank you."

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Due to chronology, blocking and useless stuff like that, Kyle had narrowly missed seeing Stan so far. But Juliet's next scene was the party, and in the ten minutes until then Kyle's heart beat so hard against his breastbone, he could swear Bebe, her fingers full of Kyle's red locks, could hear it. But if she could, she gave no sign, sweeping Kyle's hair into a magnificent updo, just loose enough to make Kyle's face look feminine.

"Wow." Kyle was stunned at the how dramatic the change was.

"I know," said Bebe. She hugged Kyle from behind and grinned. "We owe you big time."

Kyle watched her skip off to costume change and listened for a little bit. From the little makeup room backstage, he could still hear the scene onstage. Kenny's monologue about dreams and fairies was captivating, and Kyle smiled and hurried into the white and cream ball gown Juliet wore for the party. He ran to the wings and awaited his entrance.

Capulet was played by a bashful sophomore named Zach, and it was on his arm that Kyle was now perched. He had been surprised at first, but after a hurried explanation, he thanked Kyle profusely. He walked onstage now with purpose and dignity, both of which were lacking in rehearsals. Kyle smiled at him as Zach started into his lines and let a bored look cross his face as Juliet was supposed to do.

Kyle lost himself in the next interactions until a full, beautiful voice filled the stage.

"What lady is that," asked Stan, "which doth enrich the hand of yonder knight?"

Kyle fought the urge to turn and see the look on Stan's face. Juliet wasn't supposed to hear Romeo. But the blushing was impossible to suppress.

"O," sighed Stan. "She doth teach the torches to burn bright!  
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night  
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;  
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!  
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,  
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.  
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,  
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.  
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!  
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

Though Kyle knew the lines were prepared for someone 400 years ago, he couldn't help but shudder with pleasure at hearing them directed at him.

Cartman broke in. "This, by his voice, must be a Montague!"

At the ensuing argument between Capulet and Tybalt, Kyle moved across the stage to pretend to speak with an extra. He fought himself to keep his eyes in front of him so hard, that he jumped with surprise at the next words that were directed at him.

Just so we're clear, the next line was not "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this" as it was meant to be. Part of the reason Kyle Broflovski jumped is that the next words directed to him were, "Hey, beautiful."

Kyle turned slowly around to face Stan. Stan was grinning wildly, his eyes filled with mischief and a certain familiar mystery. Kyle stared blankly at him. "Huh?"

Stan held out his hand, deviating from the blocking as well as the script. "You are God's gift to the world. Please, you beautiful creature, let me hold your hand. Or," at this, Stan winked, "let me kiss it."

Kyle looked around him for help. The other actors on stage were stunned. The lights made the audience practically invisible. The crews stuffed the wings, but they all seemed to be enjoying themselves. Kyle screamed in his head. Shouldn't there be something like a stage manager for these kinds of emergencies?

Oh yeah.

Kyle looked at Stan's open hand and took a deep breath. "Good pilgrim," he said and held Stan's hand with both of his own. "You do wrong your hand too much,  
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;  
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,  
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." Kyle placed his palm against Stan's, like a slow high five.

Stan smiled at Kyle and entwined their fingers. "Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"

"Ay, Pilgrim," Kyle laughed as Stan closed his eyes and prepared a ridiculous kissy-face.

"Lips they must use in prayer."

With his other arm, Stan grabbed Kyle by the waist and pulled him in tight. "O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;  
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."

Still smiling in what he hoped was a flirtatious manner, Kyle turned his head. "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake."

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take." Stan's forehead rested against Kyle's and he continued in a stage whisper: "Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged."

Kyle felt almost queasy as Stan's lips gently landed on his own. A surge of electricity ran up his spine and his shoulders shuddered. It was a soft kiss, almost like an accidental brush, but Kyle still felt anxiety make his heart beat fast.

Stan pulled away from Kyle. They opened their eyes at the same time. Kyle's eyes fell to the floor and he stammered his line: "Then have my lips the sin I have took."

"Sin from thy lips?" Stan faked a gasp. "Oh, trespass, sweetly urged! Give me my sin again!"

Stan held Kyle's face and poised for a dramatic, sweep-her-off-her-feet kiss, quick and theatrically powerful. What happened, though, was the result of poor aim. Their noses smashed together in an eye-watering crunch. Both yelled out in pain and pushed away from each other to let out separate strings of curses. Both held their noses in their hands. Kyle saw a little blood trickle between Stan's fingers and he took out the handkerchief Sue had insisted on stuffing down his sleeve. He turned to Stan with the handkerchief and pulled Stan's hands away to hold the little white cloth against his nose. "You kiss by the book," Kyle laughed.

The audience chuckled as Butters came out. "M-madam, your mother craves a word with you."

Kyle crossed the stage, eyes still watery. He pretended to talk with an actor, who could hardly suppress her giggles as Kyle rubbed his nose, and waited for Butters to come over. He stole a glance back at Stan. His nose had nearly soaked the handkerchief, but his eyes showed an unbridled glee. He looked back at Kyle and they smiled at each other.

The stage emptied. "Come hither, Nurse," called Kyle.

Butters twiddled his thumbs nervously and walked up.

"What is yond gentleman?" asked Kyle.

"Th-the son and heir of old Tiberio."

"What's he that's now going out the door?"

"M-m-marry, that, I think, be young P-Petrucio."

"What's he that follows there, that would not dance?" Kyle tried not to look too interested in Stan, but then he remembered Juliet was supposed to be interested in Stan. His face did a confusing ballet of emotions.

Butters looked up and away and touched the back of his neck. "I-I know not."

"Go ask his name," Kyle said. "If he be married, my grave is like to be my wedding bed."

"Romeo!" Butters burst. "He is Romeo and a Montague! The only son of your greatest enemy!"

Kyle paused for effect. "My only love, sprung from my only hate.

Too early seen unknown, and known too late.

Prodigious birth of love, it seems to me,

That I must love a loathed enemy."

"Er," said Butters, "what's that?"

Kyle smiled sadly. "I just made it up."

Bebe called from the wings and the stage went dark.

_**Now seems like a good time to put in a little intermission. I didn't realize how long this would be, so I guess there's at least one more chapter. Tell me what you think, I'm dying to know!**_


	11. Chapter 11

**GAH! Every time I try to finish it, it ends up being too long! Frustration! Anywho, this is the second to last chapter (hopefully) and there is much Style and much style. Almost too much. Nauseating Style. Lol! But idc, I like it. Phobeea, darkslayer18, medusa750, Neemo, imjustlikeyou12, lerptehmerp, rixiroo, styleftw, kyle lover forever, sheebepup, shirbells style whitlock, laughingangelsgibberish, tfro97, kammy147, splodeynova, thehatterfromunderland, flying tackle, jo Thomas, guitargirl214, and captain mel (phew!), thank you all so much for your reviews. They mean an awful lot to me.**

Proceed with reading, but it's kind of mushy-gushy, lol

Stan caught up with Kyle as the stage grew dark.

"What's going on, Kyle?" he demanded. Kyle could feel the heat rising from Stan's face.

"Wendy had a bad hair day, dude," Kyle tried to explain. "I'm sorry, I couldn't think of anything else in so short a time."

"Bitch," Stan muttered under his breath. "She just left us?"

Kyle nodded.

"Well," Stan said, "this changes everything!"

"No, no no no no no, this changes nothing but the actor. I'm still stage manager and I want a smooth opening night. Just pretend I'm Wendy and it'll be great, okay?"

Even in the darkness, Kyle could see the glint in Stan's eye. But the set crew motioned for Stan to hurry to his entrance and cut Kyle off from his pleas.

Before running to the wings, Stan turned around.

"Watch me, Kyle. Okay?"

Kyle gave him a thumbs-up and walked to his entrance point.

A buzz in Kyle's sleeve startled him and he almost let out a yelp. He reached into his sleeve and grabbed his phone, expecting an alarm or something stupid like that. 

It was not.

It was a text from Kyle's little brother, Ike.

It read: Ky, u look ravishing in that dress. Y didnt u tell me u were Juliet?

Kyle typed back quickly. W went AWOL. How's the view?

Kyle got to the balcony entrance just as Ike replied. LOL, set rox. Actors rok. And whoever did ur makeup rox, mom and dad don't even recognize u.

Kyle typed his reply. Good, keep it that way. I hope the audience is as clueless.

Kyle stuffed his phone back in his sleeve and listened to the play. He groaned when he heard the adlibbing.

"Juliet!" cried Stan. "Juliet, I'm not leaving without you! Whatever you say or do, I swear to God I'm not going to give up."

Kyle felt his heart skip a beat. The determination sounded so genuine… Stan Marsh was a better actor than even Kyle gave him credit for.

"Juliet, I'm being totally genuine here! No matter what obstacle we face, I want to face it together! No matter what pains we feel, I want to feel them together! I love you, Juliet, and I'm going to stand here until you love me back!"

Kyle peeked out of a sliver in the curtain as Kenny and Craig took the stage. With annoyance, Kyle noted that Stan's back was to the audience. But with a twang of pleasure, he saw that Stan was staring right at him, hands on his hips, determined and defiant. He thought he saw something familiar and altogether wonderful in Stan's fierceness, but he couldn't place it…

"Kyle?" Kyle barely got his hand over his mouth in time to muffle his yelp of panic. When his heart slowed down, he turned around to see a short blond boy in a powder blue dress fiddling with his apron on the step below him.

"Butters, what?" Kyle whispered, a bit harsher than he intended. Butters gave him a hurt look.

"Um," Butters whispered, "S-Stan told me something I think you should-"

"Shh!" The set manager glared at the boys and their respective dresses and motioned for Kyle to mind his entrance.

"I'll ask Stan later. Thanks, Butters."

"But-"

"_Sh!_"

"Oh, hamburgers…"

…

"He jests at scars that never felt a wound," said Stan. Kyle took his cue and walked onto the makeshift balcony with a little more apprehension than he expected. A spotlight trained on him, blinding him to the audience, but he could swear he heard a collective gasp. Great.

In fact, we should note at this point that Ike is indeed one of the only audience members who recognized Kyle. He sat next to his parents, but they had insisted on back row seats to take in everything that was going on- set, lights, acting- as a whole. They were theatre dorks. The rest of the audience was so unused to the redhead on stage that they didn't recognize him at all. Most thought "she" (because Kyle was maybe a little _too_ good with makeup and had fooled them) was an out-of-county kid brought in to diversify the cast. Not enough white people, you see.

As Kyle walked out onto a rickety balcony, the collective gasp was for how beautifully the simulated moonlight bounced off his skin, creating a fleeting, magical image of love. The audience seemed to lean forward for the speech many of them had learned in high school, eager to hear the words applied so aptly to this stunning creature. Sheila and Gerald Broflovski closed their eyes in anticipation and waited for their son's best friend to recite some of the world's most precious poetry to this girl, make the most romantic scene in the history of English literature tantalizingly real.

"Oy! Juliet!"

Stan's deviation from the script caused a panic in the wings and the audience. This was supposed to be the most romantic speech ever! Why was Romeo ruining the moment like this?

Sensing the panic, Kyle dove into his speech to cut Stan off from any further tricksy ideas.

"Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?" Stan was jumping up and down and waving his arms, yelling "Juliet! Hey, Juliet! Over here!"

Kyle spoke a little louder. "Deny thy father and refuse thy name! Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn by my love and I'll no longer be a Capulet!"

Still Stan shouted to get Kyle's attention. "Right here, Juliet! Hey! Juliet! Juliet, Juliet, Juliet!"

Kyle spoke still louder and tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "'Tis but thy name that is my enemy-"

"Ooh, Juliet, over here!"

"Thou art thyself and not a Montague."

"Hey! Juliet! Juliet!"

"What's a Montague?"

"Check yes, Juliet!"

"It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm-"

"Juliet! Look at me! Look over here!"

Finally, Kyle sighed. "What."

Stan smirked. "Hey, Juliet. It's Romeo. I was in the neighborhood."

"Were you."

"Yeah," Stan smiled. "On an unrelated note, you should get your dad to get the thorny plants off the wall. They kind of hurt."

The audience let out a relaxed chuckle. 'Oh,' was the consensus. 'This is a humorous adaptation. That isn't so bad, then.'

Kyle, who was not privy to the consensus, flushed scarlet. "If my family sees thee, they will murder thee."

"Too late, Juliet. I seem to already be dead, because one word from you could bring me to heaven or cast me into hell. It's funny, cuz you don't look like a Peter."

The audience laughed a little louder and Stan beamed.

"I would not for the world they found thee here," said Kyle, resignation weighing his voice down. Stan was going to keep doing this until he felt satisfied.

"What they don't know won't hurt me."

Kyle had to stifle a giggle. Stan climbed up the ladder the set crew disguised with paint and plastic vines. It was a little early, but Kyle decided it was better to roll with it than to try to rectify the situation now. He leaned on the balcony towards Stan flirtatiously.

"Thou knowst the mask of night is on my face, else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek for that which thou hast heard me speak tonight-" Stan cut him off with a peck on the lips.

Kyle paused and blushed. "Er, fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny-"

Smooch.

Kyle locked eyes with Stan, who seemed to be acting on compulsion. There was a desperation in his eyes that Kyle almost recognized, a firm resolution that, if Kyle only knew what it meant, he'd have trusted to the ends of the earth.

"Uh," sputtered Kyle, "what I have-"

Smooch.

"Spoke, but-"

Smooch.

"-but-"

Smooch.

"-fare-"

Smooch.

"-well-"

"-compli-"

Smooch.

"Aw, screw it." Kyle pulled Stan's face to his own and kissed him with the force of a million agonizing uncertainties, thousands of volts screaming down his spine. Suddenly, he didn't care that two hundred people and all the actors and crewmembers and probably youtube (later) were watching. He didn't care that the play until now hadn't followed script and wasn't likely to find its way back anytime soon. He didn't even care that he was wearing a dress in front of the world and kissing a guy. The only thing that mattered was the painful passion he felt for Stan and the fingers that traced the line of his jaw and the playful tongue trying to fight its way into Kyle's mouth.

It seemed like forever, though certainly not long enough, before Kyle heard the whoops and applause from the audience and the wings. Regretfully, Kyle and Stan pulled away from each other to look wildly around for the catcallers. Bebe Stevens was in the wings, wiping away a tear. Kenny McCormick made obscene gestures with his hips. Eric Cartman held up his videophone with unbridled glee at the sudden blackmail opportunity. Kyle blushed and looked back at Stan. Stan gazed lovingly at him.

"I love you, Juliet," he said. "I love you and I have since I laid eyes on you. I want to wake up every morning to your face and watch the way your eyes tighten when you dream. I want to listen to you when you get upset. I want to hold you when it gets cold outside. I want to brush your hair from your face and let you know that everything is going to be okay. You're my best friend, Juliet, my soul mate, the only one I want to see for the rest of my life. I love you and I refuse to leave until you accept my heart."

Kyle was taken aback. "But… What about Rosaline?"

"What about her?" answered Stan. "She is nothing to me. I swear I've never loved until I loved you. And I'll never love again after."

Stan placed his hand on Kyle's cheek and Kyle clutched it. "Really?"

"I promise."

Kyle pulled away. "Don't make any promises. People break promises."

Before Kyle knew what was happening, Stan climbed into the balcony with Kyle. He held Kyle's waist embarrassingly close to his own and held Kyle's face in his palm.

"Juliet," said Stan, "I promise. I will never, never stop loving you."

"Don't-"

"I promise."

Kyle looked into Stan's eyes and saw nothing but conviction and truth. He smiled.

"Trust me," said Stan, and he pulled Kyle into a sweet, gentle kiss that made Kyle feel safer than he ordinarily would standing on a wobbly little balcony made by high school students with twice his weight. He heard "aw"s, but he didn't care. He heard "ew"s, but he didn't care. He heard "Stan, get off the balcony, it's gonna break," and he only cared a little. Stan did that to him.

"Juliet?" called Butters' little voice, clearly coming to rescue the thin wooden makeshift floor of the balcony. Stan pulled away unhappily and climbed back onto the ladder.

Kyle grabbed Stan's hand. "I trust you," he said. "With every ounce of my soul I trust you."

"Then you'll be with me? Forever?"

"Until the end of the Earth. I love you."

Stan smiled. "Forever can't start soon enough."

Butters called more insistently and Stan climbed down. 

"Just a second!" called Kyle to Butters. "Hold on, Romeo."

Stan winked and Kyle slid back behind the curtain and almost slammed into Butters.

"I have something important to tell you!" Butters whispered. Outside, Kyle could hear Stan talking about nights and dreams.

"What is it?" Kyle asked.

"Jeepers, Kyle, Stan told me the other day that he likes you."

"We're best friends, dude. Of course he likes me."

"No," explained Butters in a conspiratorial whisper. "No, he _like-_likes you. A lot-lot."

Kyle let that sentence hang on the air. Connections formed in his mind. He had thought that Stan was making out with him to stay in character, but… Then again, Romeo didn't have to caress Juliet's cheek that softly. Romeo didn't have to climb into the balcony just to comfort Juliet. Romeo didn't have to cup Juliet's butt and nibble her earlobe.

Kyle was thinking so hard on this that Butters almost had to push him back out so he didn't miss his cue. Kyle stumbled back onto the platform and met silence. The audience was waiting. The crews were waiting. Stan was waiting.

Kyle said nothing. He turned to Stan, who grinned broadly on the ladder. Before Kyle knew what he was doing, he was kissing Stan with all his might. He wrapped his arms around Stan's neck and played his lips across his best friend's face. He ran his fingers through Stan's hair and relished the feel of each soft strand sliding between his fingers. With one hand grasping the ladder, Stan slung his other arm around Kyle's waist and pulled him close. Kyle could feel the warm softness of Stan's lips and smiled into the kiss.

When he pulled away, Kyle pressed his forehead against Stan's. "Marry me," Stan said softly, but with enough power that Ike shivered with embarrassment in the back row for intruding on what felt like such a private moment. Kyle looked up with determination.

"Yes."

"Send your Nurse to work it out?"

"At nine o'clock. Don't be late."

Stan laughed and kissed Kyle happily before climbing down the trellis.

"Romeo?" Kyle added as Stan turned away.

"Yeah?"

"I'm seriously. Don't be late."

Stan laughed as Kyle slipped behind the curtain again. Once again, Butters was standing on the top step, fiddling nervously with his apron. Kyle beamed and hugged him tightly, planting a kiss on each cheek. Butters blushed furiously.

…

There was only a minute before Stan's cue, so Kyle rushed to his exit. They took each others' arms gingerly, as if they thought it was a dream, and elapsed into beautiful prose. 

"Are you-"

"Yeah."

"But I thought-"

"Nope."

"So I guess-"

"Yep."

"And you're-"

"Shut up."

Stan pulled Kyle's chin to his face and pressed those dry, soft lips against Kyle's. They pulled away and hugged each other tightly. Kyle felt Stan's heart beating against his chest, rapid yet even. Then a hand snaked down Kyle's back to cup his butt.

Kyle stifled a giggle and slapped Stan's hand away before pushing him to the wings. Stan blew a kiss and skipped off.

By now, Kyle's phone was vibrating madly against his wrist. As Kenny McCormick hopped obscenely over to Kyle, he opened it.

From Ike: ew, Ky. try to keep the sucky face down to a minimum for your lil bro? btw, wtg! i 3 u 2.

From Kenny: humpy humpy humpy humpy humpy humpy hump. Bout time u losers. hurry and make beautiful buttbabies 2gether.

The next address made Kyle's blood run cold. His mother. As Kenny waved his hips lewdly, Kyle opened it.

Kyle, your brother thinks I didn't notice. You look stunning, bubbeh, and Stan is a wonderful boy. I'm so proud of you in so many ways and you continue to amaze me. Your father and I have known for a while, so just to ease your fears, we aren't anything but thrilled for you. We love you, Kyle.

This threw Kyle for a loop. What's the catch? he tapped back suspiciously.

By now, most of the cast had started a huddle around Kyle. Sheila's response was quick. You're grounded for not telling us sooner. And from now on, fewer sleepovers. Kyle sighed. yup.

The cast turned excitedly toward Kyle, thanking him, congratulating him, and, in Cartman's case, holding up their fingers in the shape of a cross whispering, "Gaywad, gaywad, gaywad." Kyle grinned sheepishly and blushed. He could hear Stan and Clyde on the stage and shuddered with pleasure.

"Move aside, move aside!" Big Gay Al and Mr. Slave shuffled through the crowd, Al's face melting in a pool of eyeliner.

"Al, stop," said Mr. Slave. "You don't have to be angry! It's a high school play!"

The cast stared guiltily at the ground as Al let out a fresh sob.

"But it was supposed to be perfect, Slave! There was supposed to be romance and love and eloquence! It was supposed to be beautiful!"

"They've been great so far! The audience is loving it!"

"But it's all wrong!" Big Gay Al wiped his face with his ascot. "I mean, who seriously thinks that those two reds match at all?"

He was met with silence. Everyone looked at Kyle's dress. Slowly the cast turned to face Sue, the costume manager. She blushed.

Kyle held her by the shoulders and smiled at her. "It's okay, Al. Sue's been doing fantastic all night."

Big Gay Al threw up his hands and stormed off. Before running off to comfort his husband, Mr. Slave turned to Kyle and hugged him.

"You're more convincing than some of the guys I used to date."

Kyle turned scarlet.

**Whew! Thanks, everyone! I should have the last chapter up soon. Sorry, I got stuck on all the tangents and stuff. Last chapter finishes the play and the aftermath. LOVES!**


	12. Chapter 12

_**Hi guys, sorry it's taken MONTHS to put this out! Thank you so much for following this story to the end, it means the world to me! Special thanks to Captain Mel, RandomWriterChick (you're a MADwoman!) aznkungfugeneration, sleepymccormick, i'm at my all time low, love-n-happiness, kammy147, SCBunnyGo, styleFTW, dramatis echo, darkslayer18 and imjustlikeyou12! The comments really make my day!**_

_**Again, sorry for my inexcusable lateness and thank you so much for sticking with me! I love you guys!**_

There is a unique brand of satisfaction in a flawless performance of any production, dramatic, comedic or musical. It enthralls the audience. It fires up the crew. It makes the cast crap their pants in glee.

Luckily for the costume crew of South Park High's _Romeo and Juliet_, this performance was far from flawless. Unluckily for everyone else, this performance was far from flawless. The title actress had gone AWOL with no one to replace her other than the closeted stage manager with a thing for his best friend, who just so happened to be playing the title role of Romeo, a situation resulting in horrendous deviations from script and rehearsals. The costume manager was desperately trying to remedy her awful choices in color and fabric on Juliet's dress, unknowingly interrupting Mercutio and Lady Capulet in a dressing room cubical, the latter valiantly trying to pull her bodice back on and the former valiantly trying to keep it off. A freshman in the crew bumped her elbow super hard against the wall.

But there were at least three people in the South Park High auditorium who were having the time of their lives, despite the problems.

Two of the people who were having a fantastic time should be obvious by now. The third will remain undisclosed for the time being for the sake of mystery.

...

Kyle Broflovski smiled and tried to be as gracious as possible to the dozens of crew and cast members surrounding him, but he found it rather difficult, considering half of them were obstructing his view of the stage. He wanted to watch Stan Marsh, wanted to see him, hear him, catch his eye, send a wink. He satisfied himself instead with running his tongue around inside his mouth, still tasting Stan's kiss.

Soon, the crowd of people around him thinned to just Butters as actors went to their entrances and crew went to their stations. Kyle found himself in a bubble of bliss, unable to quit grinning even as his cheeks ached from the strain. Butters seemed to be immune.

"Is it... is it really a good idea, Kyle?"

Kyle looked at Butters, a bit surprised. "What?"

"Well, think about it," Butters said, true concern coating his voice. "You're best friends. What if you break up?"

Kyle was speechless. He hadn't really considered that possibility. What could happen to that beautiful, awesome, rocking sweet friendship if they went through a nasty breakup? It was possible, right?

Just then, the scene let out and Stan rushed out from the wings toward Kyle and Butters.

"Hey, beautiful," he smiled. "Hey, Kyle."

"Oh, shut up!" Kyle playfully smacked Stan's arm. "I'm way hotter than Butters!"

Stan hugged Kyle tightly and spun him around. "Watch the ego, Kyle. It makes your butt look fat."

Kyle laughed and kissed him. Butters blushed and excused himself to his entrance point to watch Craig and Kenny's scene. As soon as he was out of sight, Kyle let his face fall.

Stan looked at him curiously. "What is it? Did something happen?"

Kyle shrugged and put on a false smile. "It's nothing."

"It's something. Are you okay?"

"You don't want to hear it," Kyle said sheepishly. "It'd make me look silly."

Stan grinned. "Then I _definitely _wanna hear it!"

Kyle laughed. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Yes," nodded Stan sagely. "Yes I do."

Kyle rolled his eyes and laced his fingers with Stan's. They walked together to Stan's entrance for the scene and kissed each other softly. Stan walked on stage beaming with confidence and the intrigue of a man with a secret. Kyle watched the three actors for a while before he sighed and walked off to the dressing rooms to change.

He nearly walked into a breathless Bebe. He noticed her lipstick seemed a little smeared.

"Oh! Hi, Kyle," she nearly shouted, trying to smooth down her hair. Kyle barely lifted his head to greet her.

"Uh-oh," she said. "Someone's being a sourpuss." Bebe linked arms with Kyle and steered him into the dressing room. She sat him down at one of the vanities and ran her fingers through his hair to loosen the style and redo it. Kyle nearly sighed in pleasure.

"Now," Bebe said, "tell Mama what's wrong."

Kyle smiled slightly. "Do you think Stan and I are... you know... a bad idea?"

"Of course."

This stunned Kyle. "Y-you do?"

"Yeah, it's a bad idea. If you break up, you could lose your best friend AND your boyfriend in one fell swoop. It's never a good idea to care that much about anybody. It just opens you up for hurt." Bebe's fingers kept twirling through Kyle's hair. He suddenly felt very ill.

"But..."

Kyle looked up at Bebe in the mirror. "But?"

Bebe's fingers froze and she stared straight ahead. "If someone were to go into their backyard and decide to make a machine he'd be able to fly in, we'd call that a horrible idea. But the Wright brothers did it and the world now has something wonderful." She locked eyes with Kyle. "Love is a horrible, awful, terrible idea. There are so many things that can go so wrong and ruin your life." From a distance, Kyle could hear Butters' entrance onto the stage, but it seemed miles and years away. "But you have to wonder if the chance to create something beautiful, wonderful, inspiring is worth the risk." Bebe smiled and set back to doing Kyle's hair.

They were silent for a while. Kyle chewed his lip thoughtfully.

"So... from your perspective-"

"Do I think it's worth it?" Bebe was staring him head on in the mirror.

Kyle blushed and looked away.

Bebe grinned. "Kyle, you're not only in love, you're in love with your best friend. You're the luckiest person I know. Everyone in the world, myself included, would kill for what you two have. You want my advice? Here it is." She spun Kyle around to face her and stooped to eye level. "A ship is safest in the harbor, but that isn't what it's meant for. Take the risk and make something beautiful we can all aspire to."

Kyle felt his cheeks tighten into a grin. He stood up and locked Bebe into a tight embrace.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Bebe laughed and pushed him to the door to find his entrance.

...

The stage darkened just as Kyle came up to the wings. He watched silently as the shadows of the set crew moved around to create a garden. He suddenly felt familiar arms snake around his waist and a chin on his shoulder. Kyle placed a hand on Stan's cheek.

"Spoiler alert," murmured Stan, his breath hot on Kyle's neck. "I agreed to the proposal and we're getting married tonight."

Kyle laughed softly and kissed Stan's nose. "I'll be sure to wear something sexy." The set crew was filtering back into the wings and the music was fading, signaling the lights. Kyle came center stage just as they came on.

Kyle paced the stage. "At the hour of nine I did send my nurse and in a half hour's time she promised to return. Perchance she cannot meet him. No, that's not so."

Suddenly, Butters rushed the stage, several lines too early. He fidgeted uncomfortably for a second, then his eyes widened, realizing his mistake. A few in the audience snickered.

Kyle rushed to his aid. "Nurse! What news? Does Romeo accept?"

"L-let me catch my breath, child!" Butters wrung his ands in agitation and embarrassment. Kyle steered him to the bench by the fake wall and sat him down.

"Nurse, why do you look so sad? Is it bad news? Oh, if the news is bad, say it merrily! If the news is sweet, you sour it with a frown!"

Butters fidgeted some more, trying to remember his lines. "I-I am weary. Give me leave awhile. Oh, how my bones ache!"

"I wish you had my bones and I your news," Kyle said. "Tell me, what did Romeo say?"

"Well, be a little patient, Juliet. Can't you see I'm out of breath?"

Kyle laughed. "How can you be out of breath when you have enough breath to tell me you're out of it? Come, speak! What say Romeo? Is the news good or bad?"

"Depends what you think of as g-"

"Oh, out with it already!" Kyle bit back a grin.

Butters smiled a little sheepishly. "Have you gone to confession today?"

"Yes."

"Then get to Friar Lawrence's cell. There waits a husband to make you a wife. I'll set out a ladder for Romeo to climb tonight."

Kyle laughed. "Oh, honey nurse, thank you, thank you!"

Butters blushed and smiled.

...

Because Kyle had to take off his shoes and run to the dressing room to change, he had no more than a glimpse of Stan before the scene. Bebe and Kenny were waiting for him with the simple white dress for the wedding. Bebe fixed Kyle's hair and held him by the shoulders. Kenny came up behind her and dramatically presented the veil like an engagement ring. Bebe took it up and placed it on Kyle's head before wiping away a mock tear.

"A mother always dreams of this day," she mock blubbered.

Kenny made a great show of holding her to his chest. "Go, Juliet. Go make your mother some grandbabies."

The two fell into each others' arms and soap-opera sobbed.

"Er... thanks?" Kenny waved him along and gave him a thumbs up.

Kyle smiled and headed to the wings. He watched Stan make chit chat with Clyde then flipped the veil over his face and walked onstage.

Stan stopped mid-sentence to look at Kyle. He gave a wicked grin and wolf whistled.

"See, Friar?" Stan said. "I told you she was hot."

Clyde's face fumbled in confusion and panic. Stan laughed.

"No, Friar, check it. Juliet, could you turn around for the Friar?"

Kyle hesitated, contrary ideas running through his head. There was the first and only rule of improv theater- "Just Go With It"- and there was "Stan, shut _up!_" Bowing to the power of the improv rule book, Kyle turned in a flirty circle.

Stan wolf whistled again. "Now _that_, Friar, is one hell of an ass."

Kyle blushed. "Romeo, I'm sure the Friar doesn't need to hear about my butt."

"You're right Juliet. We can't tempt him out of his vows." Stan grabbed Kyle's waist and pulled him in tight.

"Mine," he said, glaring at Clyde.

"Uh... sure," Clyde said. Stan and Kyle giggled.

"Dearly beloved-" began Clyde.

"Sorry, Friar, I'm gonna have to stop you right there." Everyone looked at Stan in confusion. "Can we please just skip to the vows? I'm fourteen and I have to be in bed by eleven. And I'd like as much time as possible to spend with my wife." He winked at Kyle and Kyle grinned.

"Sounds like a good idea, Friar. What do you think?"

Clyde stumbled around his lines for a moment then sighed. "Okay, fine. Juliet, do you?"

"I sure do."

"Romeo, do you?"

"You bet your ass I do."

"By the power vested in me by the state of Verona, I now pronounce you man and wife."

Before Clyde had even finished his line, Stan's arms were around Kyle's waist and he was kissing him. Kyle laughed, his lips full of Stan, his chest filled with glee. Stan pulled away and laughed, pressing his forehead to Kyle's as the curtain fell and the applause grew.

The stage went dark. The set crew moved along to set up the stage for the next act. The audience murmured and stretched for intermission.

And still Kyle and Stan stood center stage, wrapped around each other, eyes filled with each others' faces.

It was starting to get a little nauseating.

Sick of watching them, one of the cast members snuck out the back, grabbing one of Sheila Broflovski's cupcakes on his way out. It was a short walk to the football field, where he found the third person having the time of her life tonight. He grinned and greeted her.

"What up, ho?"

Wendy Testaburger turned around, face aglow, lips pink and smiling, hair unmangled. "Hi, Cartman."

"Good show so far?"

"Perfect. Who'd have thought you'd make such a good Tybalt?"

Cartman smiled and took a bite of his Jewcake. "Well, there's a lot you don't know about me."

Wendy grabbed Cartman's wrist and wrapped it around her shoulders. She took a bite out of his cupcake. "Thanks for going along with this."

Cartman laughed. "Wendy, you are the most manipulative puppet master I've ever met. Your plans are more elaborate than I could ever dream of; you're tricksy, brilliant and you have no sense of privacy in other people's lives. You're pure evil."

Wendy smiled. "The worst part is I know that's a compliment,"

"It's totally a compliment!"

They laughed and started walking back inside.

...

The rest of the cast and crew were in the green room by the table filled with celebration food. Kenny was raising a plastic cup of Mountain Dew and singing very loudly about how awesome he thought each individual cast or crew member was. Kyle and Stan sat in the corner, laughing with everyone else when Kenny did a particularly long ode to Bebe's left boob and she twisted his ear. Stan looked at Kyle, snuggled against his hip, and smiled.

Kyle looked back at him. "What?"

"Just thinking. We could have been doing this years ago. Why weren't we doing this years ago?"

"Because theatre's still pretty lame?"

"No, not that," Stan laughed. "Us. Why did it take so long to become an 'us'?"

"Good question," said Kyle, munching on a chip. "Let's waste our time thinking about that little mind bender instead of sneaking off into the dressing room to make out now that we ARE an 'us'. Excellent."

Stan laughed. "Point taken." He stood up and offered his hand to Kyle. Just as their fingers touched, the lights in the green room started flashing, signaling the three minute warning to curtain up.

"Oh, come ON!" groaned Stan.

Kyle laughed. "Now comes the fun part! Stan Marsh, prepare to die."

"Dammit! Kenny, any good tips?"

"Fuck you," Kenny said, flipping Stan the bird.

The students filtered back to the turned around and stopped Kyle short.

"Three years, six months, seventeen days. That's when I knew."

Kyle looked at him, puzzled. "Three and a half years ago? Wasn't that-"

"Yeah. The last time Wendy and I broke up. She's the one who called my attention to it."

"What? Why didn't you say something!"

"I did. 'I don't want another girl,' remember?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Oh, right. It's impossible to interpret that in any other way at all."

"Not my fault you're slow," Stan smiled. "Anyway, I want you to know that. I owe Wendy a lot for forcing me to take a look at myself and who I really want. We both owe her."

"Fine. I'll tell Big Gay Al not to blacklist her."

Stan laughed and kissed Kyle. "I love your big, generous heart."

"That is my only gift to her, considering I'm still in a dress."

...

The cast and crew had a great deal of fun the rest of the play. Kenny pranced around stage like a ballerina with a sword and Cartman threw in some extra insults at Stan, mostly along the lines of "traitor to Mel," "pussy" and "faggot." When Kenny fell down dead, Stan, out of habit, yelled "Oh my God! You killed Mercutio!" and Kyle, out of habit, yelled "You bastards!" from offstage. Cartman took great pride in his ninety second death scene, complete with gurgling, cursing and a final loud fart to signal his passing.

Finally, Stan entered the burial chamber where Kyle tried to lie as still as possible, despite his anxiety and the overwhelming urge to sneeze. Playing a comatose character, Kyle wasn't able to see exactly what Stan was doing, but it sounded an awful lot like a seizure. Ike described it later to him: Stan rushed the stage and, upon seeing Kyle on the chaise, fell to his knees and tore at his hair a la Tweek. Ike said Stan's moaning and sobbing gave him chills. Of course, immediately after, Stan stuck his tongue in Kyle's ear, so any despair was purely superficial.

"Oh, my sweet love. My honey darling. How can I breath a single breath when my fault hast stolen thine away? Therefore I come to join you, forever entombed and yet freer than Verona would let us be. Wait for me sweet. Let us to Heaven together."

Kyle had to concentrate on keeping his face immobile and mask his shock at Stan's poetry. Stan downed the vial of poison/water and pulled Kyle into a sloppy, desperate, one sided kiss. Kyle tasted salt on Stan's lips.

Stan fell heavily across Kyle's lap. Ten seconds later, Kyle made a great show of stirring and sitting up. The next part he had anticipated being trickier. He had a few of the actors come up to him and give him advice, but it was unnecessary. The second he saw Stan's body, that heart-wrenching, earth-shattering, soul-searing scream was entirely natural, even though he knew Stan was fine and well and probably singing "Come On Eileen" in his head.

But he screamed. He forced the agony of every second Stan hadn't been near him in the last four years into that scream; he shoved every repressed urge and desire into that scream; every accidental touch; every shameful dream; every doubt he ever had of who he was, what he was, how he was; every question he'd ever had about love, about life, about math, about God, about Stan, about Stan, about Stan. He screamed.

When he was done, he panted over Stan and cradled his face. The audience was silent, except for a few choked sobs.

"Wake up," Kyle whispered. "Wake up."

Stan tried to move. Kyle pinned his body down. No way was he gonna let Stan ruin anything this close to the end.

Pinned down, Stan opened his eyes a tiny bit and looked up at Kyle, concern furrowed in his brow. Kyle smiled in what he hoped was a sad way and bent to kiss Stan.

Stan replied by shoving his tongue into Kyle's mouth.

Kyle pulled himself away. "Oh, churl, thou hast left none of thy potion on thy lips! O, happy dagger!"

Kyle plunged the plastic dagger under his armpit and fell just so into the crook of Stan's arm. The rest of the cast came to the stage and said their lines. Or, Kyle assumed they said their lines; his mind was busy trying not to squeal as Stan stroked that sensitive spot above his hip that he KNEW was ticklish, the bastard.

Token's deep voice emanated through the theater. "A glooming peace this morning with it brings;  
The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

The lights faded and the applause rose. Kyle distinctly heard his mother's quirky specific cheers ("My son is the most beautiful Juliet ever!" "That's a beautiful dress, lovely embroidery!" "Those light cues were shaky at first but ended magnificently!" etc.) and sat up and waved to everyone in the audience.

The extras and minor characters did their bows. The supporting actors did their rehearsed schticks as an exit. When Romeo and Juliet were left to bow, Stan suddenly swept Kyle up, bridal style, in the wings. Kyle screeched.

"Putmedown putmedown omigodstan putmedown!"

Stan ignored the kicking and flailing and walked onstage. The cast, crew and audience sound booth, tipped off by Wendy, played 'Up Where We Belong' as Stan carried Kyle, kicking and yelling, center stage. When Kyle realized what movie he was suddenly reenacting, he went silent and blushed furiously.

Stan put Kyle back on the ground and held him by his waist. The audience hooted and clapped as Stan drew Kyle's chin to his own.

"I love you," Stan murmured.

Kyle blinked back tears. "I love you too." They kissed, and the curtain fell slowly over the cast and crew of Romeo and Juliet.

...

"I still don't see why it has to be at my house," Kyle sulked three days later.

"Oh, come on," said Stan from the passenger's seat. "You are our fearless leader! The stage manager who, against all odds-"

"And a scheming puppet master devil woman."

"I believe that counts as an odd, Kyle. You made our humble little production a success and we love you for it!"

"And my mom's cupcakes."

"Especially your mom's cupcakes! We simply can't have an after-show party without them!"

Kyle grinned and kissed his boyfriend. They pulled into Kyle's driveway, followed by Bebe, Kenny and Wendy, Cartman, Clyde, Butters and Token, and Craig and Tweek with the mousy freshman girl Tweek seemed to like. Everyone else would be following shortly, straight out of closing night and still on a perfect run high, where Wendy was once again Juliet and Kyle was able to straighten out all imperfections from the sidelines. Audience members who were at opening night expressed confusion at the difference, but who the hell cares what they think anyway.

Stan raced down to the basement where Sheila and Gerald had put up a few decorations and a large blue cake. Kyle ran down to meet him and jumped into his arms. Stan kissed him and laughed.

Everyone started to filter down into the basement. Craig started an aggressive, high stakes darts game with Token and Clyde, who seemed to relish the idea of darts through each other's various appendages, as per the bet. Kenny passed around a water bottle of vodka for whomever felt they needed social lubricant. And to Butters. Because Drunk Butters is hilarious. Around Cartman and Wendy grew a crowd of spectators as they played Truth or Dare with a gusto that had never before been witnessed by mortals. And Kyle and Stan drifted in and out of conversations and games, together.

Around one in the morning, the party had dwindled to just a few friends who didn't shy away from helping clean up after, or, in Cartman's case, because his ho made him. They sat in a circle and talked about high school, each other's families and what they wanted out of life. Just Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Butters and Cartman.

Kyle shut his eyes and laid his head on Stan's chest. Stan smiled and stroked his hair. "Kyle, I'm so glad I talked you into coming to the auditions."

"Me too, Stan."

"I had a really great time."

"So did I."

"I'm happy to hear you say that, Kyle. Because next we're going to do 'The Merchant of Venice.'"

Kyle's eyes shot open. He stood up and walked away.

"Screw you guys, I'm going home."

Kyle made it to the top of the stairs before he realized he was already there.

"Shit."

**The End! Finally!**


End file.
